Speak Low If You're Sober
by Xxajanae97xX
Summary: Freddie was sober when it came to relationships, and was absolutely convinced he felt nothing for Sam. But how is he supposed to react when she shows up to his dorm with a headache and a need for a friend? Rated T for safety, Seddie.
1. Speak Low If You're Sober

**A/N: First iCarly oneshot, yay! Actually it's a pretty long one, but it's the only way I could make sure it was "complete". Well, I'm dead tired so I'm just gonna shut up and let you guys read**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own iCarly blah blah blaaaah**

* * *

The music was blaring, and the sounds were so contorted Freddie couldn't tell if it was a rap song or heavy metal playing. But the way the teenagers were dancing and flailing their arms around either one could fit.

This was always the way parties were at Washington State. The Cougars had won their home football game so of course that caused for celebration and the obligatory campus party. Freddie wasn't even into football, not at all a sports buff, but Gibby was on the team so he figured he'd be supporting a friend. Yes, Gibby on a college football team may seem surprising, but due to his surprisingly phenomenal kick boxing skills and his hefty build, the coach saw potential in those weird, bulgy eyes.

"WOOO! OH YEAH, ALRIGHT!"

Speaking of, Freddie crooned his neck from his position on the bar stool to see Gibby dancing on top of one of the tables. He counted the seconds before he would take his shirt off: one, two, three, four...

"NOW WHO WANTS TO RUB THE RUNNING BACK'S BELLY OF GLORY!??" and he ripped off his jersey while the small crowd yelled and cheered and danced on the table alongside him. Half of them didn't even like Gibby, but were too drunk to separate him from the other football players.

Freddie shook his head in annoyance. Usually he didn't mind the parties, but this one had a capacity of like fifty thousand students and since the crowd separated him from Carly and Sam, he couldn't enjoy himself at all. But that didn't stop others from enjoying him. He counted four girls who approached him at the bar and either asked for a dance or a number. Half of them looked like seniors possibly intoxicated and wouldn't be able to remember who he was the next day, but the other two seemed genuine. He just genuinely wasn't interested.

He decided after his last high school girlfriend he would end all relationships. His adolescent crush on Carly had ended a long while ago when he realized the kiss they shared revealed nothing. His love lingered into pure friendship, and he had been sober for five months now.

It wasn't a healthy sobriety, however. Someone made it really hard for him to stick to his resolution--extremely hard and confusing.

"Freddie!"

Freddie turned in his stool trying to find the source of his name, and someone hit his shoulder and he turned back again.

"Oh," he yelled back over the rap/metal music. "Carly, there you are!"

"Hey! Have you seen--" _CRASH._

Both shot there heads to the table where Gibby and a few others fell off--well, either fell or purposely jumped in attempt to defy gravity.

Carly shook her head. "Oh my god."

"The sad part is that he's not even drunk!"

"This party's officially too crazy for me. Have you seen Sam anywhere?"

Freddie's throat caught dry but he spoke anyway. "No, wasn't she with you the whole time?"

"No. I actually thought you'd want to be--"

But Freddie stopped her before she dared try to finish. "Seriously Carly? You're gonna start that again?"

She curved her lips. "Nah, I'm not starting anything with you again. You're too stubborn to listen to reason."

He gave her a hard look while leaning over the bar. "Your theory isn't reason--it's lunacy."

"I know it is, but that's how you two are with each other--"

"We're nothing with each other."

"She wouldn't think so."

Freddie shot her an evil look and grabbed her arm. "Wait Carly--you didn't say anything did you!?"

She averted her gaze and smiled. "Well..."

"Carly!!??"

She shoved his hands away. "Jeez, Freddie, no. I've never said a thing to Sam so she doesn't know anything. I can't even say anything if I wanted to because you tell me nothing."

He wasn't calm inside but he masked it well. "There's nothing to tell," he said soberly.

Carly sucked her teeth and gave him a stern glare. She was able to accept the fact that there was nothing between her and Freddie anymore. They dated, they kissed, it meant nothing, so they ended. But somewhere along the line her friends changed; tensions rose and eased between them constantly, their arguments were strangely more intense, and she would catch Freddie's eyes lingering on her best friend for longer than she cared for.

All of that had to mean something. She's had her theories for a while, but didn't confront Freddie on them until just the other day after he and Sam ended another heated debate. Of course he denied every word, raised his voice, and scoffed every accusation away, but Carly wasn't an idiot.

Freddie Benson had really light almond eyes that revealed everything. And she was sure of it: he liked Sam.

He hated her more than anyone could ever hate another human being, yes, but he also liked her, he was drawn to her, and had eyes for no one else.

"Freddie, really," she continued, "I don't say this much but you have to stop being such a blind idiot."

"Being blind is better than being delusional. You're only seeing what you wanna see, Carly."

"That's the thing, though. I don't even know if I want to see this. You two are so completely wrong for each other, but in another strange way you two could be so right. I don't know, I just want to see you two happy. Sam's had a crappy time with grades, getting into Washington and stuff, her family, and I really wanna see her okay." She looked at him now. "And if you really wanna do that for her I'm not gonna let something like your stupid pride get in the way."

"You're not gonna? Even if I do want this, wouldn't it be my choice?"

"No it wouldn't. Because as your best friend I officially have the right to decide for you."

Freddie smiled despite her annoying assertions and gave her a amicable push.

"I shouldn't expect anything less from Carly Shay."

"Yep," she smiled. "Carly Shay, the former love now chased into obscurity by her blonde headed meat loving best friend."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh just leave already."

She giggled and tugged his collar playfully. "Alright, but if you see Sam tell her I left cuz I have classes in the morning. And make sure she doesn't get into any trouble."

"Aw, babysitting? But what if I want to leave too?"

"Just--" she said before someone tripped over her and spilling their drink in the process. She stomped her foot. "Rude much!" She turned back to Freddie. "Just make sure she gets back to the dorm okay, alright?"

He nodded despite his annoyance. "Yeah, alright."

And she rushed out.

Freddie leaned back over the bar and twisted a napkin over his fingers, let it loose, then did it again. He thought it would help pass the time but he was only growing more agonizingly bored. He threw the napkin and reached for his cell phone out his pocket. He typed a message and clicked "send":

_Sam, where r u?_

He saw her contact picture next to her name while he was waiting and absently smiled. It was a picture he took while she was sleeping in class: she had drool trailing along her psychology text book and her bottom lip puckered out, while those blonde curls spread all over the desk. He found the image exceptionally pleasing, so he took the picture for memory. She would probably smash him and his phone if he saw it, so he made sure he changed it every time she was near.

His phone vibrated and he saw the new text come in:

_Sup Freddork. I'm over by the pool, y?_

_Carly left cuz she has classes in the morning. I wanna go 2. Are u stayin?_

_Aw. Must u 2 be the acid rain on my parade? I wanna take another swim._

_Carly told me to make sure u don't get in any trouble Sam. So u got one more swim then ur goin back to your dorm._

_Gosh dude way to baby me much. Fine, I'll be there don't worry._

_Promise?_

_Yeah yeah promise. Now get goin. I can feel ur nubbiness all the way from here.  
_  
Freddie scowled, shut his phone, and walked away from the bar. Carly was delusional. How could anyone even stomach having romantic feelings toward Sam Puckett?

* * *

Freddie was sprawled out on the couch when the knocks came. He had gone back to his dorm about an hour ago and already took a comfortable shower. Gibby wasn't back yet, so for now he had the dorm to himself.

The knocks came harder. "Freddaaaay!" a slurred voice called from the other end. Freddie sighed, flipped off the couch, and took off the padlock to open the door.

"...Sam?"

She was hunched over, hair drenched, and she held the laces of her converses in her hand. She looked at Freddie with a Cheshire grin and stomped into the room.

"Sup Freddi...Freddi...Freddi... You know I really need to think of some better nicknames for you."

"Sam...?" he inched closer to her, but she just flung her sneakers and they punctured his gut. _Ow_.

"Oh my god. This dorm is freakin huge! Three couches, three TVs, three floors, and they're all...spinning..." she lost her footing and fell, only to rise back up and fall again. Freddie raised his brow. Slurred speech, no sense of coordination whatsoever, and unbelievably rank breath: he didn't need a breathalyzer to tell that she was drunk.

Sam tripped on her feet one last time. "Okay!" she yelled to no one. "I wanna get off this ride now!"

Correction: super drunk.

Carly was going to kill him. Then he was going to kill Sam and Carly was going to kill him again. Clearly she was drunk, wasted, hammered, and d: all of the above. Why, _why_ couldn't she stay out of trouble like he asked!? Why did Sam have to be so…rambunctious, so crazy, so irresponsible!? Why—

Why did she even come to his dorm in the first place?

"Sam!" He stood her up and pressed hard on her shoulders, forcing her to look straight. She still sported that dopey smile and glazed eyes. He would laugh if he wasn't so pissed. "Do you know you're drunk?"

"The question is—do youuu know I'm drunk? Cuz if so I'm in a loooot of chizz right now."

"Oh my god," he yelled exasperated. "You're so wasted!"

She clasped her hand over his mouth. "Shhhh! Carly will hear you!"

He scrunched his nose when he whiffed the alcohol from her breath. He shook her again. "Sam, didn't I tell you to go straight home after? What did you do!?"

"N-no!" she waved a finger in objection. "I d-did! I was gonna—like really—do like two more laps and leave—" and she flung her arm for emphasis. "But after I got some Wahoo Punch I had to pee like really, really bad. So I…set my cup down out near the bathroom…peed…then came back. Then I…" she shut her eyes in pain and grasped onto her skull. "Then this happened. Damn headache…"

Freddie wanted to yell again but he paused. There was something completely wrong with her story. She only drunk punch…then she sat her cup down to…

Oh no.

"Sam!" His eyes bulged. "Someone spiked your drink!"

"Really…?" she asked still holding on to her head. "But wouldn't that hurt the cup…?"

He shook his head. "What? No! Somebody laced your drink with alcohol and got you drunk!"

"That bastard!" she gasped and tried to walk for the door but stopped when another stroke of pain rammed in her head. She leaned onto Freddie's chest and grabbed her head again. "_Ahh_! Freddie…" he watched her burrow her head in his t-shirt. "I'm scared…"

…And all of a sudden he wasn't mad anymore. He couldn't find the strength to yell or to call Carly or run back to that party and murder the guy that did this. All he could think of was Sam and how she was scared.

"And also…" she said under muffled breath. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

Okay, that did it. He hauled her over his shoulder and ran for the bathroom. "Hold on! Hold on! Hold on!" he kicked opened the door and propped up the toilet seat. As soon as he set her foot down she shoved him out the way and threw her head in the toilet, visibly spewing green and pink chunks into the bowl. Freddie grimaced but held her curls away from her face and watched her go.

And go…and go…and go…

After about two minutes Sam lifted her head and curled her tongue in disgust. Freddie had a towel ready so without hesitation he wrapped it over his finger and wiped her face—first the remains of the chunks, then the tears from forcing it out her stomach. She grabbed the towel when he was done, scraped it over her tongue repeatedly, and then threw it across the bathroom.

"Um…" Freddie finally spoke. "I have an extra toothbrush…"

"Yeah, yeah, in a minute," she rasped out, and clutched the sides of the toilet. Marveling in its coolness, she touched the sides more, then pressed her cheek against it. She smiled and blew out a sigh. "Oh wow…this baby's so cold. C'mon, Freddie, feel it," and before he could object she clasped her hands between his cheeks and pulled him toward the bowl.

"Oh wow…" she reiterated.

Freddie bit his tongue in awkwardness. "Yeah, um…it's so…cold and…refreshing…?"

"No, not that," and she took her left thumb and trailed it over his jaw line. Freddie caught her stare and swallowed. Her face was extremely close, and despite the recent gagging her hands were very warm and soft. She smiled, which only made him swallow harder. "This part of your face is so smooth," and she rubbed up toward his cheek, "but _this_ part is so scratchy. Look, you can see little hairs and everything. Wow, Freddie I didn't know it was possible for you to grow facial hair."

Freddie dropped his expression and listened to the 'womp womp woommp' ring in his head. Even when drunk, Sam's insults were so subtle.

She smirked and sat up, stumbling a little, which made Freddie rise up with her and hold onto her arms.

"You got it?" he cautioned.

"Yeah but," and she tugged on her damp Cougars t-shirt, "I got a little…barf drippage on my…yeah."

Freddie looked around his bathroom in thought before he came to a solution. "Oh, I got that just hold on," he rushed out, stepped back in again to make sure her feet were planted firmly on the ground, then left again. A few seconds later he returned with a long gray t-shirt and a clean towel.

"The towel's to dry your hair," he explained, "and the shirt's to…you know…"

She snatched both from his hands. "Got it, Freddie. I may be out of it but I know what a shirt's for," and without warning she tugged at her Cougars shirt and crossed her arms, raising it above her head and—

"WHOA!!!" Freddie flew up one hand while the other clasped over his eyes. "Don't you think I should shut the door or something!??"

Sam simply turned her head, looked at him, and nodded. "Oh yeah, sure."

"Um…okay then…?" and while still covering his eyes, he backed away and shut the bathroom.

_HOLY CHIZZ!_ Freddie screamed in his head. He planted his knuckles to his skull and slid down to the floor next to the door. He dug his knuckles in hard, but his mind was officially plagued. Sam's midriff was completely exposed, and if only for two seconds, he saw her hips, her abs, and her red laced bra—

_Jeez, Freddie, no. Don't even go there. So you saw your friend's bra, so what? Yeah it was Sam, but who cares? It's not like you wanted to see it—you didn't anticipate it or anything. Hey: just be lucky she's out of it or else she would have done something evil like twist your eyes out of your eye sockets and feed them back to you. _

True, but he still shuddered. Not because of the vivid bloody eye imagery, but because he still saw Sam's face in his head. Whether it was of those blonde matted curls, those puckered lips and drool from class, or of her _exposed_, it was all Sam, all his _friend_ clouding his mind. It's not like he enjoyed these images before, not like he didn't throw his pillow off his bed when he woke up at night dreaming of the demon, not like he didn't enjoy their arguments just to feel her reaction, not like he didn't curse at himself when he was caught staring at her too long, or letting the camera linger on her face for longer than needed on iCarly, not like he didn't purposely avoid Carly now because ever since the other day she had been bombarding him with her strangely accurate notions and theories. But it was worse now, because one—despite being _Sam_ she needed him right now, and two—it was _him_ she came to, not Carly who was her oldest best friend and someone who knew how to handle her in these situations.

"Alright, Benson," Sam finally called and opened the door, throwing him out of his thoughts. "I threw my clothes near that tub thingy and used your toothbrush. Hope you don't mind." Freddie was against the door when it opened so he had to stand up and walk from behind it to see her. And boy did he see her. The t-shirt he used was the biggest one he had, yet it still only covered her thighs. She ran her fingers through her hair and held her head, still trying to grasp the spinning world around her. She moaned slowly and pouted her lip, getting ready to topple over. Freddie dashed toward her and held her steady. She definitely smelled better now, and for the first time in his life he actually felt stronger than her.

He would have to remember this moment to hold over her for future reference.

"Freddie," she moaned.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"I'm like…super tired. Can I crash here on your couch or something? Promise I won't do anything to it."

Freddie bit his lip, glancing back over from his bedroom door to Sam. Every fiber in his being was screaming for him to say no. _Say no man, just say no._ But she yawned and gripped her head again. He flexed his jaw.

He couldn't.

"Sure, we can't have you on the streets tonight. You'd cause more havoc than usual. I'll just call Carly and—"

"No!!" She clenched onto his arms. "You can't!"

"Why?"

"She's REALLY gonna kill me. She's never seen me like this and I'm scared."

"But Sam, she's you're friend and this is not your fault. I don't think she'll—"

She gripped on harder to him and glared into his eyes. "Don't. Call. Her." She paused. "Please."

He gave her the same hardening stare back, but even when intoxicated she could still hold down her will. Freddie sighed and removed her arms. "Fine. But first thing we're going to her." He then grabbed her palm and led her to his room. His heart quickened with each step, his mind roaming to different scenarios of what would happen with Sam in his room.

_Nothing_, he corrected. _Nothing could and nothing would happen. _

Freddie walked to his bed and loosened the covers. He threw off his text books adjusted the pillows. He also pulled out his cell and texted Gibby, asking him to crash with Shane for the night. When he turned back to Sam she surprised him. She had her arms around her waist and her navy eyes were averted and timid. She looked…scared again.

"Okay," Freddie spoke loud enough to snap her out of it. "You sleep here and I'll just plant my butt on the couch." He watched her move without objection and crawl under the covers. He started to tuck in the sheets but stopped himself. Err…he had enough awkwardness for one day. He was about to walk out when she caught his arm.

"Seriously Freddie? You're gonna leave now? What a crappy host."

He turned to see her eyes closed and neck propped back against the headboard. He smirked. She was sounding more like herself now. He walked backward and sat at the edge near her feet. Slowly she opened her eyes and stared at her hand holding his arm.

"Okay…I have one hand right now. Is that good?"

He chuckled. "Depends, what did you have about fifteen minutes ago?"

"Three."

"Then yeah, it's a safe bet you're getting better."

Sam blew the hair out of her face and grabbed onto a curl. She wrapped it around her index finger and sprung it back, laughed, and did it again. Freddie also chuckled and shook his head. It really didn't take much to entertain a drunk person.

"Duuude," she dragged out. "I wonder what I would look like as a brunette."

"You don't need to be a brunette."

"But Carly's a brunette."

Freddie raised a brow. "Yeah, so?"

"So you love her right? You also loved Valerieee, and Wendyyy and theeey were all brunettes. Plus their names all end in _eeee_…" She paused and smiled again. "Oh, cool, their names all end in _eeee_, I never noticed that before."

"Sam…" Freddie's smile faded. "What do you mean by—?"

"No freakin' way!" Sam tugged at her t-shirt and ran her fingers over the print. "I remember this shirt! You won it at the My Fellow Americans concert. Dude you rocked that mosh pit!"

Freddie scoffed. "_Rocked it_? You pushed me off the banister into the crowd and I was just lucky enough they didn't drop me."

"Oh, no no no no no no, I am not that mean."

"Really: have you met you?"

She just giggled again. "C'mon Freddie. We're like this," and she grabbed his hand and crossed one of his fingers with hers. "Ya see? Even my pinky likes your pinky."

Freddie stared hard at their fingers. Hers was so small yet fit perfectly between his. Without thinking he took his other hand circled her palm.

"Seeee?" said Sam. "Told you."

He looked up. Damn it, why was he being tested this way? This wasn't Sam he was with right now. This was…one of his fantasies, or one of his crazy dreams, but not the real Sam; not his Sam.

_Pssh, what am I even talking about? I have no Sam. I'm not supposed to have Sam. Sam's not supposed to even want me. We're so wrong like this. So wrong, but…_

He froze.

"Freddie," she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Really, thanks, okay? Like I would be sooo screwed if I hadn't come here. You're a really awesome friend."

Freddie shifted under her arms. "Um, are you sure I'm not a really gullible dork?"

He heard her laugh again. "You make it sound as if I'm super horrible all the time."

"Well, cuz you are—well…nah, not all the time."

She burrowed her head deeper into his neck. "So you don't hate me?"

"Sam I could never hate you. I hate what you do, but I can't hate you."

"Good. Cuz I can't hate you either."

And even though she was still drunk, Freddie felt her warmth, and could tell she wasn't lying this time. "Good." He finally held her back, but stiffened when he felt a warm liquid run down his shoulder. "You spit up on my shirt, didn't you?"

"Yup."

"You gotta throw up again?"

"Yup."

"Okay, go."

And in a flash Sam kicked out the bed and dashed into the bathroom. Freddie ruffled his hair and puffed out a giant breath of air. He couldn't help himself. Despite his raging hormones he had to smile.

"Freddaaay! I need a towel!"

Freddie sighed and rose off the bed.

* * *

Freddie decided to stay on the couch after Sam fell asleep. She actually crashed hard after her last acquaintance with the toilet and Freddie watch her for a bit before making his way out. Despite being drunk, she still slept the same, with a puckered bottom lip, flailed out hair, and a trail of saliva escaping her mouth. He fell asleep with that image in his head, but for once he didn't wake up in the middle of the night in agony. He didn't curse, and he didn't sweat. He was surprisingly comfortable, comfortable with seeing her eyes and evil laugh and her—

"OW!" Freddie shot up out the couch with a fresh bruise on his shoulder and looked up to see Sam, fully dressed, over him.

"Sam…? What are you doing up? You're feelin better?"

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed and crossed her arms, voice a little raspy but a lot more normal than before. "My head still feels like a freakin' jackhammer is havin a go at my skull," and she rubbed her temples to push out the pain. "But I definitely need to go. I don't even remember how I got here but I know Carly's gonna kill me if I don't see her now."

Freddie got off the couch and stood awkwardly. She was ready to leave…now?

"But Sam, you know you're in the hangover stage now, right? You sure you're okay with walking over? I could drive you over if you—"

"Gosh, Fredward, you can stop with playing the whole hero card now, alright? You gave me a place to crash and that's it ok?"

Freddie squinted in confusion. He didn't realize when the entire chemistry they shared took a hard left. But of course, he should have. Because that was Sam. That was always Sam, and nothin—especially her being hammered all night—was going to change that. He shook his head and stormed past her reaching for the door.

"You know what? You're right. I gave you a place to crash so now you can go," and he held the door open. But it was Sam's turn to looked confused. She bit her lip in guilt, shifted her weight between her feet, and finally decided to approach him.

"Wait, Freddie," she stopped him. "I'm sorry—just forget what I said." But he still averted her eyes and kept his arms crossed.

"But look," and she turned his chin to force his gaze, "when it comes to everyone else that is it. As far as Carly, and Gibby, and every one else knows I was stupid, had to much to drink, and forced you to bring me over so I could sleep without waking Carly."

Freddie mocked sourly. "Oh okay, and should I just leave out the part where some creeper was there lacing your drink with god knows what and planning on doing god knows what to you?"

"Yes, yes you should."

"But Sam!"

"But nothin Freddie! I already have all this other crap to deal with right now. I don't feel like dealing with that, too. Just—" she had to turn back his head when he shook it away. "Just promise me you won't say anything, to anyone, at least not now."

Freddie was still silent.

"Please."

She had her fists clenched onto his collar this time and shifted her look from menacing to pleading. Freddie tried to stare his down, but he sighed in defeat and dropped his gaze. "Fine," he said as he moved her hands away. "I'll keep it a secret. For now. But you have to promise me something."

"…What?"

"Promise me you'll come to me more…when you have problems. Carly says they're sorta piling up on you, and I wanna help—if you let me for once."

She scoffed. "I let you help yesterday, didn't I?"

"I mean it, Sam." And she could tell by his hard stare that he meant it.

"Okay," she cracked. "I promise."

And they stood in the awkwardness until Sam looked toward the door. "Yeah, so…I'm gonna head out now."

"Yeah," he sighed back, "you should."

But her feet stood still and she moved her eyes back and forth between him and her shoe. He was about to comment when she spread open her arms and hugged him again. Freddie paused. It was shorter than yesterday, and she only briefly wrapped her arms around his chest before letting go in the same second. "Really, Freddie," she whispered. "Thanks," and she left.

Freddie watched her leave, rubbed his arms and stood there, propped against the door frame. There, he decided was right and wrong on two things:

He was right when he said there was nothing between him and Sam. He wasn't hers, she wasn't his, and it would never be anything different.

But he was wrong when he told Carly he didn't want anything, when he said he felt nothing. The horrible truth was he felt something huge, something incomprehensible, and yesterday only confirmed that he wanted something more, something real with Sam.

He banged his head back and forth against the frame before walking back inside.

Something real with Sam…as if that would ever happen.

* * *

**A/N: Well, I hope that was good enough. I'm not sure if this could be continued as a story, hopefully I ended this at the right place. I'll continue writing oneshots while working on my other Seddie story, iNeed You More, so look out for those. Also tell me what you think about this one and if you enjoyed--hopefully you did. Pce all!**

**REVIEW**


	2. Speak Low If You Love Her

**A/N: Wow, I'm actually updating this story? I guess I am. Now don't get your hopes up, this isn't going to go on for months as a multi-chapter story, this story line doesn't need to. As of now you're looking at one more chapter. MAYBE two, but it depends on where I see this lead. But you guys have been so awesome and so many have reviewed/added this story, I feel you deserve a little treat, and I couldn't leave Freddie heartbroken forever. So please read, and I hope it lives up to expectations.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, I REPEAT, I do not own iCarly. I hope to own a show of my own one day, but it won't be iCarly. Thank you for your time. **

* * *

It's been a month.

One month and Freddie hasn't told Carly anything.

One month and Freddie hasn't told Sam anything, either.

They continued on the same, and just like he promised, as far as Carly and the others knew, Sam got drunk that night and crashed at his place. Carly of course freaked out at both her friends when she found out, but surprisingly found it nothing short of Sam like behavior. She was oblivious.

And so was Sam. She had the same attitude, same evil smile, and same brutality towards Freddie. Sometimes it made him worry: was she that good of an actress or did she genuinely forget what happened?

So as always, Freddie was the one stuck with all the memories, and all that combined with his already annoying emotions toward her made for a very tired mind. So he sat there in his seat, slumped over, eyelids drooping, and barely paying attention to his professor's last words. The bell rang and he gathered his stuff while Sam was already leaning against the door frame.

"Come on Frediffer. Stop dragging your butt. B.F. Wangs is closing early today and I needs me a spicy egg roll."

"Yeah yeah, Sam, you'll get to stuff your face as usual as soon as we meet Carly."

She made a face as she looked down at her stomach, then grabbed a hold of it and groaned out "Ohh but mama's so hungry."

Freddie smiled despite his exhaustion and chuckled. She was making her hungry face: eyebrows furrowed, cheeks puffed, and lips pouted. Damn it was cute. He hated that he liked it so much.

They saw Carly walking down the hall and approached her.

"Sup Carls." "Hey Carly," and they exchanged heys.

"So you guys have that Brandon Hayes guy in you Psych class, right?"

"Yeah," answered Freddie. "But he hasn't been in for about two weeks. The professor stopped caring."

"Well you guys know why he's out, don't you?"

"Uhh, are we supposed to even care?" asked Sam. Freddie and Sam exchanged glances. They didn't get why she sounded worried about a guy they barely knew.

"Well maybe you should, cuz I heard from his roommate that his court date is today."

"Court date?" repeated Freddie.

"Again, should we care?"

"Yeah Sam. He told me it was cuz Brandon spiked some drinks at that party we went to those couple weeks ago. He took one of the girls to his dorm and now she's suing him for rape or something."

Freddie froze. Rape. Drinks... So Brandon spiked some drinks at the party and took advantage of some girl. Sam came to him that night because that guy spiked her drink. If she hadn't have thought the way she did, she would be that girl...and giving her a place to crash and a shoulder to spit up on wouldn't have saved her.

He wouldn't have been able to save her.

Freddie wanted to scream. This was way too close. He was subtle, but he inched his head toward Sam and looked at her. It was a knowing look; he _needed_ to talk to her. But Sam didn't look back and only acknowledged him with shrugged shoulders.

"That's low," she said to Carly. "I think that'll give him a bunch of years in the pen if he's guilty. Who woulda thought one of Gibby's parties would turn out so crazy."

"Well, Sam, _you_ should. After all you did get drunk at that party and sleep at Freddie's."

"Pfft. Not even. I was just a little dizzy," she then gave a smug smile and rubbed her stomach. "Momma knows how to hold a beer."

Freddie clenched his fists. _What? A little dizzy? You barfed in my toilet twice, collapsed about three times and cried about four. And I was freakin there the whole time and you can't seem to remember any of it.  
_  
He didn't notice his friends staring at him until Carly tapped his shoulder. "Hey Freddie, are you alright?"

He gave Sam another look but she had nothing written that face, that face that was so cute about five minutes ago. Now he hated it again. She looked as clueless as Carly, and he couldn't take the bull crap anymore.

"Yeah, um, I just got this throb in my head, probably cuz I didn't get much sleep last night. You know what, I'ma just go head back, take a nap."

Carly raised her brow. "You sure?"

"Yeah. You guys just go ahead and I'll meet up."

"Weelllz," sighed Sam, "if it's like that then you wouldn't mind dropping this off for me, would ya, Freddo?" and she dropped her text book in his arms.

Freddie shot her a cold glare, and he didn't care whether Carly saw it or not. "You know what, Sam? Just...whatever," and he stomped off and headed for the double door exit.

* * *

Freddie didn't meet up with them. Gibby had football practice so instead he utilized the time alone and slept, but when he couldn't sleep because of those frustrating dreams, he laid on the couch, refusing to touch his homework. But he quickly found that annoying, too. Sitting there in silence forced him to think, and he didn't want to think. He wanted to forget.

He walked to the kitchen and scanned the cabinets for something to eat until he settled on a bowl of cereal since he was too lazy to prepare anything else. He chomped on the colorful oats in disdain. Sam's book she forced him to carry was sitting a couple of feet in front of him, so he had no choice but to think about her again.

Why did she have to be so complicated? So confusing? So crazy? Why was she so dense into thinking that suppressing what happened would make everything okay? Did she not see how everything was affecting him at all? He's the one who had to deal with what happened, too. He also had to deal with his feelings, his attraction, his wanting of her. But it was weird because it wasn't how a normal teenage boy would want a girl. He wanted her brutality and her aggression and her friendship and her trust. He wasn't kidding when he told her he wanted her to come to him more. Their kindness for each other was barely ever explored, but would it kill her to open up her insecurities? Why wasn't he allowed to see what Carly was allowed to see?

It shouldn't bother him anymore. They've been at it for years. He was used to it now. But why didn't he want to keep that? Why did he want more?

He absently flipped the cover of her book back and forth while thinking. He caught a hold of one of the pages and paused when his finger slipped over a folded piece of paper. Not even caring about the repercussions of searching through Sam's things, he took it and opened the crease. It was a letter written in someone's sloppy script.

Without thinking twice, he read the first few lines:

_Samantha,_

_I'm not gonna start this off the same way I started the other letters. I figure these all go in the trash anyway because I haven't received any letters from you. But I'm coming to town again, Samantha, and I want to meet with you and your mother—but mostly you. I want to know my baby girl again. I need to see the little me with my blue eyes and curly hair and nose. I wanna know you again, and we haven't gotten to do that since I got out the pen. So…please, read this over at least once and get back at me. I wrote my number down again. Or you can just get it from your mother. Whatever you like. But really, Samantha, I miss you so much, and I hope you miss me, too...  
_

* * *

Freddie didn't feel like getting up when the knocks came on the door. He was laying on the couch wanting so badly to disconnect with the world. Or at least with Sam. Her letter was back in her book, right where he found it. Never in the past month had he heard anything about Sam getting in touch with her father. Really, all he did know is that he got out of jail for god knows what about three years ago, but Sam never seemed to care. Why wouldn't she tell him this? He was sure she showed Carly the letter, because they were friends, and apparently he and Sam were nothing because she couldn't even keep her promises.

More knocks came.

"The door's open," he yelled, not caring who it was. Sam walked in and headed straight for the kitchen.

"I see my book's in one piece," she started. "So, why'd you ditch us earlier? From the looks of it your head is perfectly normal. Well, normal as it'll ever be."

Freddie slowly stood up and leaned over the counter. "Not now Sam, I don't feel like dealing with your crap today." Really, he didn't.

"Whoa," she laughed. "Who got your antibacterial underwear in a bunch? Or is it just that time of the month for you?"

"No," and he opened her forgotten text book and turned to the letter. He held it up to her face. "But it's that time for you to tell me the truth. For once."

Sam wasn't playing nonchalant anymore. She flared her nostrils and snatched the folded piece of paper from his hand. "What the hell, Benson!? Asking you to carry my book doesn't give you the freakin right to look through it! Seriously, are you asking for a death sentence?"

"I _asked_ you to be honest and up front with me! But I guess that's physically impossible for you. I didn't even read the whole freaking letter, but I didn't have to to tell that you're hiding something from me. And it's only me, right? I bet you told Carly about this, right?"

"So what if I told Carly, it's none of your business. Nothing is your business! You know, I don't get you Freddie. Why the hell do you care about this stuff anyway? You're not my father, you're not my _protector_, and you're not—"

"Not your friend, either."

Sam caught her breath. That was certainly something she didn't expect to hear. "W-what?"

"Face it, Sam, that's the only thing we have for each other: hate. You're making me carry this huge secret and you don't even seem to care that some girl got _raped_ by the same guy that spiked your drink. You wouldn't do that to a friend! You wouldn't make someone carry that much guilt if you liked them. Don't try to deny it: we're not friends."

Suddenly the letter in her hand weighed one hundred pounds more, and she felt herself sinking down. For once, she felt small under Freddie's eyes. "Oh, just…just cut the melodramatic crap, Freddie," but he ignored her and walked toward the door. She spoke louder. "We play this game all the time: we yell, we fight, I embarrass you on a heck load of occasions, and we scream that we hate each other. But it's not _really_ true. Come on, Freddie…we're friends."

Freddie didn't face her, and he shut his eyes as he grabbed the doorknob. "Maybe…then maybe I don't wanna be."

"What?"

"You should go, Sam."

"No."

"Why?"

She bit her lip. "Because…because…because you're being stupid, that's why! Look, you're right. I shouldn't have forced you to keep that secret, and I shouldn't have ignored your feelings. You want me to say I'm sorry? "

He sighed. "No Sam, I don't. You wouldn't mean it anyway."

"Well, okay then, what do I have to do to convince you I mean it?"

He looked in her eyes for the first time. Those blue irises were big, and almost pleading. They reminded him of that morning, that morning when she first begged him to keep the secret, and when they were okay again. He realized something that day, and even though he hated to admit it, even though he hated her in that moment, he had to remind himself.

He _liked_ Sam.

She drove him so crazy, but he didn't want to be away from her. Without realizing it, he raised his hand and cuffed it around her cheek. He stared hard, and trailed his finger down her jaw line. He wanted to…

No. _What _in the world_ am I doing?_

He clutched his hand back into a fist, and averted his eyes as he shoved his hand into his pocket. "Uh, just…forget it. Forget what I said. You should go, though."

Sam glanced down, too. Her cheek was warm all of a sudden and she didn't know what to say. "Yeah, I should…" and she walked out when he opened the door for her.

But she took two steps backward before he shut the door. "So…" she started. "Are we cool?"

Freddie sighed in defeat and held up his fist for her to knock them back in an amicable exchange. "Yeah, we're cool."

Sam curved her lips. "Good," then she left again.

* * *

It was a late Sunday, and for some reason Freddie was happy. Well, not as happy as he was content. He felt he was able to cool off in the last couple of days, and he and Sam didn't fight after that.

In fact, he was done.

Done with everything: with the conflicting emotions, the rage, the anxiety, he was done with it all.

He knew how he felt about her now. It was Sam's turn to deal.

He placed the popcorn bowl in the center of the table and opened the DVD case. It was the gang's movie night, but with Gibby making up an exam it was just the classic three: him, Sam, and Carly. He was about to place the disc into the player when the door swung open.

"Sup, Fredduccini, ready to watch some mutant ninjas recapture the underground Tokyo mafia?"

"Hey Sam," he greeted. "Carly comin?"

"Nah, she and Wendy wanted to catch that new vampire movie instead. And you know how much I despise those things sooos it's just me."

"Oh, great. How wonderful," he made sure his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

She plopped on the couch and snatched the bowl of popcorn. "Well, Freddo, if I'm not mistaken it sounds like you're dreading these two hours alone with me."

Freddie gave a wry smile as he sat down next to her. "Oh no, Sam, not at all. You can't _imagine_ how much I'm looking forward to this. Now quit hoggin all the popcorn, you scavenger."

She stuck out her crumb covered tongue and they started the movie. It was a big anticipation so they glued their eyes in for the first twenty minutes. The special effects were not a disappointment, but sadly everything else was. At first they assumed the cliché protagonist searching for his lost identity was okay, but the three second fight scenes and useless damsel in distress were just too many clichés to handle. About an hour into the movie, Sam reached for the remote and powered off the TV.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because that movie was a load of chizz. I couldn't sit through another minute of Japanese chicks screaming."

"Yeah, you're right," and he sat up and stretched as Sam's phone went off. He watched her read the text and raised an eyebrow as she shut it and narrowed her stare.

"Uh, you kay?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "it's just my stupid mother for the thousandth time telling me to write back to that stupid letter."

"Err, letter?"

She gave him a look through the corner of her eye. "My father's letter."

"Oh…" He grew silent for a while. "Hey, I'm sorry about me freaking out before. You were right. It's none of my business what goes on between you and your family. I was just being stupid."

"Nah, I'm over it," and she lowered her tone a bit. "You were just being a friend." She ignored the look he gave her. "But you were wrong about one thing: I didn't tell Carly."

"But she's…Carly. How couldn't you tell her?"

"Dude, _I_ didn't even know how to react to the letter. So why am I gonna show you two and have you guys decide my feelings for me?"

"We wouldn't have—"

"Riiiight. Carly would've been like, _but he's your father and he wants to rebuild a relationship with you so you shouldn't be so selfish and blah blah blah_. And youuu would've practically said the same thing."

Freddie smirked. "Not really. I would've just been happy that you wanted to share something with me for once."

Sam looked at him for a moment then smiled absently and crossed her feet together on the couch. "There you go again getting all touchy feely on me. Really…why do you care so much what I share with you?"

He only shrugged and stretched out his feet, resting them on the coffee table. "I guess as much as I love fighting with you I like knowing we're close, too, ya know?"

She nodded absently in response and occupied herself with the thread poking out of ripped jeans before speaking again. "You know sometimes I think we must've defied the laws of nature or something. Cuz I'm pretty sure enemies aren't supposed to like each other this much."

He caught her stare and held on to it. "And since when does Sam Puckett care about breaking the rules?"

"Touché. But still…don't you think we're crossing into very dangerous territory?"

And in that moment he was ready. He was ready to tell her everything, every conflicting thought he's had since day one. He knew there was a ninety-nine percent chance he would fail miserably, but he didn't. "Sam, you're the epitome of dangerous. I should be terrified just sitting here with you, but for some reason I'm not. For some reason I'm being drawn by that…" and he moved his eyes to the top of her head. "…by that annoying piece of hair sticking out of your head. Gosh," and he plucked the strand away.

Sam chuckled despite her increasing heart rate. "Quit making me laugh, Benson. Like I said before this is very dangerous territory."

He smirked again stared at his hand still entangled in her curls. He moved his fingers and ran them from the back of her neck to the bottom of her jaw, stopping at her chin. Somewhere along the line he kept inching closer to her until their noses touched. He tilted her chin closer, and he could see the shock and fear beam from those blue eyes.

"Freddie…" she whispered. "Don't you even…"

"Just say when."

And with officially losing his sanity, he tilted her chin further and pressed his lips carefully with hers.

* * *

**A/N: Ohhh, I hope that ended okay, _again_. If there were any awkward parts, I'm sorry. As usual, I strive to keep the characters in-character. School's been hell for me these past two weeks, and I also had to finish college apps and other strenuous school-related activities. But I have NOT forgotten about iNeed You More, and that story WILL be updated tomorrow--if I don't finish the chapter tonight. Well, there's not much else for me to say but to please review and look forward to the next and last chapter.**


	3. Speak Low If You're Over

**A/N: It's 6 in the morning and I've been working on this all day and night, but I'm loving where this is leading so I knew I had to update this weekend. Unfortunately (or fortunately) this is not the last chapter, because I felt this was the perfect place to end it for now. The next chapter, however, will be the wrap up. So please, I'm incredibly sorry for the wait and I hope you'll still enjoy this. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own it. You know what it is.**

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* * *

**

Freddie didn't remember Sam's lips being that soft the first time they kissed. He forgot how despite the blanket of awkward wrapping around them, his lips liked being adjusted to mesh into another girl's. He liked the heat that friction created, and how he wanted it to continue for more than those seven seconds. But for the sake of their sanity both had to let go.

But that seemed liked eons ago, because now he was kissing his enemy without any initiation, and for a second he felt her push back.

But that was only for a second.

He opened his eye and saw her fists slacken against her thighs. Her once stiff lips loosened against his. Her breathing continued to pike and she inhaled, giving Freddie a brief entryway into her mouth. Their tongues touched, and Freddie felt his psyche slipping, for he had no idea what the hell he was doing or why he was enjoying it so much.

Wait…he was kissing Sam Puckett and there weren't yet any repercussions.

_God, am I dead?_

Unfortunately he got pulled back into reality when he felt two sharp incisors puncture his bottom lip and heavy hands pushing him back against the cushions. Sam scrambled up and off the couch, spitting in disgust as if she was being French kissed by a scorpion. Freddie covered his mouth in pain and yelled.

"OW! Sam, what did you do!"

"What did _I_ do!" she screamed, breathing still heavy. "I'll answer that as soon as you explain what the hell you just did!"

"It's called a kiss, you viper," he groaned still holding onto his throbbing lip.

"It's called a _death sentence_," she seethed, "Jee, Freddie, why didn't you just tell me you were so suicidal? I would've offed you a long time ago!"

"So a guy kisses you and you puncture his bottom lip and"—

"Stop saying that word!"

"What word?"

"The word that will cost you your life," she glared. But Freddie challenged her—he was feeling recklessly ballsy lately and figured he would continue since he was going to die anyway. He rose from the couch and approached her, giving a hard stare into those crystal blue irises.

"_Kiss_," he repeated.

_Slap! _Sam didn't hesitate to raise her hand, and after the blow to his cheek, she couldn't help but ponder at his change in attitude.

"I'm out of here," she said finally, her tone low but striking.

"That's right," he called after her, ignoring his now throbbing cheek, "run away from everything. Typical Sam."

She screamed in frustration and turned back around. "You _promised_ we'd never do that again!"

"Well I figured since you're the queen of breaking promises it wouldn't be such a problem," he mocked, curious of where the sudden stroke of courage came from.

"You're a problem!" She tried to deliver a jabbing insult but was too stupefied to come up to par with her other material.

"And you're impossible!"

"Me?" she came closer, getting more and more sucked into his presence. "You kissed me!"

"But it's not like you objected," he said quietly, never taking her eyes off of her. "You kissed me back."

She paused. It was as if her chest was pulling her down, trying to drag her down to the nearest hole to bury her into. Clearly this was a dream, some sick and twisted nightmare that would end soon, because _never_ would she ever have this conversation with Freddie in reality.

"No," she said finally. "I didn't," and she headed for the door, ready to get out of this dorm and this situation.

"Yes you did. You straight reciprocated."

"Why," she turned back, keeping her hand on the doorknob, "would I ever want to kiss you?"

"Because," he was ready to reply, but honestly had no clue what to say. That ballsy fire suddenly escaped him, and he sighed and hunched his shoulders, rubbing his neck in a symbol of his confusion. He was approaching the part he always expected but never prepared for: the rejection. But, it wasn't any normal girl; it was just Sam. So the whole rejection thing wouldn't mean much…right?

But it was exactly because she wasn't normal that it meant the world to him. _Ugh…_

"Because," he started again, "…maybe you're feeling a little bit of what I'm feeling."

"…And what's that?" Sam asked with careful words. But that was the exact question Freddie couldn't answer. What was he supposed to say? Like? Love? Insanity?

He exhaled slowly. "It's…it's complicated, Sam, but I…kinda wanna cross into that dangerous territory with you."

Sam's mouth went dry. "Wha…what now?"

He braced his self. "You were kidding before, I know that. But I'm not. Seriously Sam, I think I like you."

Lie. He thought he liked her three months ago. Now he was past it, and he was dipping himself closer into love every time he saw her.

Even in moments like this, where she terrified him and at the same time made him want to claw her eyes out, he couldn't shake that feeling.

"I…" Sam rasped out, barely able to comprehend the world right now. "I gotta go." She scrambled to open the door and had one foot out the door to freedom until Freddie grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Please, Sam, don't run away from this."

But it was as if she was poisoned by his touch. She shrugged him off quickly and rushed down the hall, elbowing a poor kid walking her way but not really giving a damn. Freddie watched her go, and after registering what just happened he slammed his door and slid his back down against the wood. He wiped a tired hand over his face and stared absently into space, trying to replay every moment of that disaster in his head. Sadly, his lips stilled tingled with the taste of Sam.

"Gosh, Freddie," he reprimanded himself, "what did you expect: for her to run into your arms and live happily ever after? What an idiot move."

_No_, he replied to himself, officially proving that he was in fact mentally ill, _I wasn't expecting that. But even though I feel like crap now I still _want_ her. God, what is wrong with me?_

* * *

_What is wrong with that nub? _

Sam was now in her shower, trying as hard as she could to scrub the impurities away from her skin. She took the bar of soap and carelessly rubbed it over her lips, but a few seconds later, having realized how stupid that was, she rubbed it off and gargled with the raining shower water. She wanted to sleep so badly, but her mind hurt too much to give her any rest.

It hurt with thoughts of Freddie.

What the hell was she doing having thoughts of Freddie while in the shower, anyway?

Carly wasn't back yet from her movie, and she was glad. No way could she face anyone, let alone Carly, after what happened. She was violated tonight, that much was obvious, but why was it making her feel so horrible? Why was she feeling so guilty? She cuffed her hands together to gather the warm water and let it splash across her face. She ran her wet palms through her locks in exhaustion and leaned back against the tile.

_All my teasing the past five years must've finally made him crazy,_ she thought, _cuz no way would Freddie ever admit to having feelings for me._

* * *

Once again, Carly felt out of the loop.

Apparently, something major happened between her best friends, and she had no idea what. It was a week later and neither of them had uttered a thing about anything that might have maybe happened.

But that silence had to mean only one thing: her theory of blossoming love was correct.

She knew immediately after she came home that Sunday from the movies with Wendy. She walked in the dorm and caught Sam hurrying out of the bathroom. Her hair was soaking wet so she assumed that she just had finished a shower. But the look on her face was so pale, and she stared at her for a long while; it was a discomfited stare that made Carly uncomfortable. When she tried to ask what was up, Sam just furiously shook her head and replied "the water's cold," then headed to her room.

Similarly she called Freddie that night to ask how the movie went without her, and he checked out multiple times throughout the entire conversation. When she tried to mention Sam and her peculiar attitude he just paused, then made up some bogus excuse that his mom was calling him with some supersonic dog whistle that only he could hear. She didn't doubt that his mom was actually bizarre enough to have a dog whistle to use on her son, but that he could actually hear it twenty miles away.

They were never able to meet together as a group at all that week. Whenever she was free, Freddie would just mention his heavy workload of studies and walk off, and Sam would just be…well, Sam, and complain about how she didn't feel like socializing with people and stay locked up in the dorm.

They weren't laughing anymore. They weren't arguing. They weren't mocking each other or pulling pranks or wrestling each other in the parking lot. Whenever one of the other's names were mentioned Freddie would become distant, and Sam would become evasive. Whatever happened between them resulted in disaster and Carly no longer had her friends by her side, but instead hollow, empty shells of what used to be Sam and Freddie.

Of what used to be an awesome team.

But it's been a week, and Carly could no longer take the emptiness. It was the end of afternoon classes, and like always Carly stopped in front of their classroom to meet her friends. She wasn't sure if they developed some type of system, but for the past week Freddie would always walk out first, and about fifteen seconds later when he was down the corner Sam would make her exit and go down the opposite hall. But this time she squared her shoulders and waited for the door to open, and when it did she grabbed Freddie by the arm to stop him from moving any further away.

"Hey Freddie," she smiled.

"Oh, hey Carly," he greeted back casually, but wouldn't stop staring at his arm.

"So…" she tried to drag out for fifteen seconds. "What are you up to today? Wanna hit up B.F. Wang's with me and Sam?"

As anticipated, Sam walked out but paused in her tracks, not expecting to see her friends (well one friend and one person she wasn't able to put a label on anymore) by the door. She looked at Freddie, but seeing him look back sent a strange shock through her spine, and she turned her head away quickly unable to meet his eyes again.

"Sorry, Carly," she heard him say, "but I don't think Sam would really like that."

Carly scrambled over to Sam. "Of course she would! Sam would never turn down an afternoon of Asian meat, would you Sam?"

But Sam didn't get the hint and stood glued there to the floor, wondering why the feeling was starting to ooze from her legs.

"It's alright," Freddie started, getting ready to leave. "I'll just"—

"Wait!"

He looked back over his shoulder, wanting to make sure his ears weren't deceiving him, because he was pretty sure that was Sam's voice she just heard. He didn't know how to respond to her one-word exclamation, so he stayed silent. It seemed as if Carly was doing the same.

"…Why don't you come with us?" Sam choked out. "I'm out of cash, so I figure you could pay for me like you usually do."

But that wasn't something that Freddie needed to hear. He gave her a dry look and turned back around. "Nah, I'm good…Later, Carly."

That sinking feeling in Sam's chest took over again. Carly's expression dropped for a second but she turned back to her friend with a smile. "Don't worry; I have plenty of cash, so I'll just pay for us, okay?"

Sam shifted her jaw. "Actually, I wasn't really that hungry anyway. I'm gonna go, sleep under a tree somewhere." And she left.

* * *

About a half hour passed, and Sam still sat under the tree, doodling inside the margins of her Psychology notes. After about ten minutes she looked down and saw spicy egg rolls and orange chicken drawn all over the paper. _Damn it, I am hungry_.

She leaned back against the tree to try to stop the rumbling in her stomach, and when she looked back down she found her pen replaced by chopsticks and her notes replaced by a box of shrimp fried rice.

"Um, am I dreaming?"

"Nope," said a familiar, prissy voice. She looked to her left and saw Carly sitting down beside her with a B.F. Wang bag in her lap. "But I am saving your stomach."

Sam didn't waste any time and began digging her chopsticks into the greasy container. "How'd you know?" she asked as she stuffed her face.

"I made a mental note to myself years ago: never take Sam seriously when she says she's not hungry."

"Wow, you do know me," she smiled.

"Yup," she said and opened up her bag. "And I also know when something's up."

Sam didn't respond and continued indulging herself. "So…" Carly carried on. "Freddie confessed to you, didn't he?"

Sam would've dropped the box of Chinese food to the ground if she wasn't aware of how valuable it was. Instead she swallowed the chewed up shrimp in her mouth and stared at her best friend incredulously. "What?"

"Freddie," she repeated with an strange nonchalance, "He told you he liked you right? It must have been that Sunday while I was at the movies. No wonder you were acting so strange"—

"Wait a wait a wait a minute!" and Sam latched onto Carly's arm. "You knew! You knew about this…this catastrophe?"

"Yes, Sam," she said while trying to tug her arm away, "Well actually, Freddie never told me anything. But there was this weird feeling I've been having for a while and"—

"How long?" she demanded.

"Um…a couple months now I guess"—

"Oh my god…"

"What?"

Sam set her food down and raised her knees closer to her chest. She ran her fingers through her curls and let out a heavy breath. "For months? He's been like this for months? Ugh, why the hell would he want to do this to me…?"

Carly scoffed. "Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure this was just a three-month plan Freddie had to humiliate you in some way by developing feelings for you. How dare that boy," and she shook her finger as if she was scolding him in person.

"I would so love it right now if that wasn't sarcasm," she moaned under a muffled breath.

"Sam, you seriously can't be mad at him for this."

But she didn't respond. Instead she let her side lack and fall limply onto Carly's shoulder. She bent her head and stayed quiet for a long time, memories beginning to engulf her brain.

"…He kissed me," she finally responded.

Carly gasped, losing all intentional sarcasm. "Are you serious!"

She nodded against her shoulder.

"Well then…now I can kinda see why you'd be upset. …But you know, it kinda sucks when your friends break promises."

"Huh?" said Sam barely.

"Remember when we got tied up by those runaway criminals and I found out about you guys' first kiss? We promised each other that we would always tell each other everything from then on out. I've felt out of the loop for weeks and you know how uncomfortable that makes me feel," she pouted.

Sam sighed. "Well then, I guess I should tell you everything then."

"Huh?" It was Carly's turn to look confused.

Sam swallowed hard. Her chest was still heavy, and it was almost as if her heart had taken over her brain and the controls to her mouth, forcing unknown words to spew out from it. "…I kinda kissed him back."

Carly displayed all of the facial expressions of shock within a five-second time period and turned around, forcing eye-to-eye contact with her best friend.

"Okay," she raised her voice, "Now I'm starting to get confused. Do you like Freddie or not!"

"I don't!"

"Really? Cuz usually when you don't like someone you don't _reciprocate_ when they _kiss_ you!"

"I didn't—" she stuttered, "he didn't—I didn't want to…I didn't." But even Sam could hear the bits pathetic in her voice.

"You didn't what?" Carly pressed.

"I don't know!" and in fury she turned away and leaned on the trunk, back turned away from Carly. She turned back briefly to grab her once forgotten Chinese food and began eating in a huff. But her bites were at slow intervals, and subconsciously her mind kept slipping back to Sunday and kept playing the incident over and over. She didn't know what it was, but he was incredibly ballsy that day, and she didn't want to admit how much he threw her off with his responses. And…even though he kissed like a timid puppy, his lips were so soft and warm. Who was that Freddie that she fought with that day? Or was it just a side of him that she refused to see?

After a long while she lowered her food, and looked over her shoulder glad to see Carly was still there. "You know," she said finally, "I slapped him. And I think I bruised his lip."

Carly smiled. "Doesn't surprise me…"

"But it was like, he didn't even care. Even today, it seemed like he didn't really care."

"Well, don't you want him _not_ to care?"

Sam told the truth. "I don't know… You know he used to love you."

Carly furrowed her brow, trying to force her brain to go back into time to remember it. "Um, yeah, he did"—

"Like, obsessively in love. Dude was cookoo for Carly!"

"Alright, jeez!" Carly interjected. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Sam started to turn around and scoot over. "Well, I wasn't crazy about the two of you or anything, and even after the whole bacon thing he still seemed to really like you. So if figured, _hey if it makes the kid happy what's the huge problem?_ But…why is it so different now? Why can't he just be some nerdy little boy with a nerdy little crush again and why can't I reject him so easily?"

Carly sighed and sat up straight, channeling her awesome advice-giving skills. "Well, both of you are pretty different now. He's not so little and nerdy anymore and you're not so little and aggressive. Face it Sam, you're a _girl_. So you're having pretty girly feelings that are probably not in your area of familiarity at all."

"So what do I do about these…things?"

Carly opened her mouth to respond but paused, shut her lips, then opened again. She wrinkled her forehead. "Um…honestly…I have no idea."

_It was times like these when Sam really hated females._

* * *

Another week dragged on, which meant another week of torture for Carly. Sam sighed as she thought about her friend. She knew it was hard having things so estranged between her and Freddie, but the past week gave Sam time to think about things, and not just squash them down into the pit of her stomach as usual. The talk she had with Carls had an extra dose of emotion she wasn't exactly comfortable with handling, but it did get her to realize something:

She and Freddie

Despite it all, they were friends.

Some would say best friends.

And destroying friendships over naïve feelings was so overrated, and something Sam wasn't willing to do.

So, if Carly was able to keep a good friend in Freddie in spite of all they went through, then Sam could easily do the same.

Sam zipped her coat as she was walking across the courtyard. It was getting late but she had an unquenchable thirst for a hot dog she needed to satisfy before she headed back for her dorm. There was a hot dog stand at the end of the courtyard and she made her way over quickly.

"Yo hot dog boy," she called over the cart. An acne-ridden kid with black-framed glasses rolled his eyes and turned toward Sam.

"Yes?" he said in a monotone.

"Let me get three large chili dogs with ketchup and mustard. No relish. I see relish and I'm running your foot over with this cart."

"Yes ma'am, right away ma'am," he flinched and turned away. A few small chuckles came from the guy beside her. Sam raised an eyebrow, not exactly sure what was so funny or what drove this stranger to get on her bad side by laughing.

"Don't worry," the guy said to the cart owner. "She doesn't really bite…much, anyway."

Sam did a mental gasp and turned to the brown-haired boy.

"Freddie…"

"Sup," he waved casually.

"What are you doing here?" she asked stupidly as if he had no right to be purchasing a hot dog at this time of night.

He pointed toward the large paper bag on the counter. "Just picking up some food. Gibby wanted hot dogs tonight."

"Ah…" she trailed off. He reached over the counter to grab some napkins, so she took the opportunity to look at him thoroughly. It's only been about two weeks since they've actually talked, and she sees him everyday in Psychology, but it was something about this encounter that had her heart pumping. He was the same brunette with the same light almond eyes and the same chubby cheeks. Everything about him was the same yet so different. It was frustrating.

"So," he started, making her jerk out of her thoughts, "what have you been up to?"

"Nothin' much," she said, "doin pretty good." Lie.

Usually the silent moments between the two were comfortable, but now it was nothing short of awkward.

"So…" Freddie ruffled his hair. "I'm waiting for one of us to start yelling or slapping…"

"Or biting," Sam slipped out. They exchanged glances and laughed quietly. She looked away but could still feel his eyes burning a hole in her back. He kept on staring until the cart guy tapped his shoulder.

"Here's your last hot dog," he said and put it in the bag.

Freddie cleared his throat. "Oh, uh, thanks man." He grabbed the bag from off the counter and started to walk off. "Well, see you," he waved.

"See you…" Sam spat out before she could realize what was going on. But once she noticed his feet start to move away she let reality smack her in the face and leaned forward, grabbing his arm. "Wait, Freddie."

He stopped and turned around, staring at her hand and how it was actually making contact with his body. "Yes?"

"Uh-I," she stammered, scratching her head, "just, um, wanted to…point out that that's a nice jacket you got on."

Freddie awkwardly tugged at the black fabric. "Well thanks, um, it is 100 percent cotton."

"I hear they do some good work…that cotton."

"Yuup."

He was ready to leave again when Sam called out. "Actually, I…" and she closed her eyes, trying to remember exactly what she wanted to say. She found herself practicing an apology all week, so why was it so hard to cough one up now?

"Use your words…" he teased.

"I wanted to apologize, okay?" she finally spat out.

Freddie stayed cautious, but couldn't help but feel a smile creep up inside of him. "An apology? _The_ Sam Puckett is actually giving an apology?"

"Yeah well," she sighed. "Sam Puckett hasn't been a very smart girl lately. And she had the help from her best friend who's a lot better at this stuff than I am."

"So," he shuffled his feet, "what did she decide?"

"She decided that she overreacted, and that she shouldn't lose a friend over such little emotions."

The smile that was before creeping up inside Freddie suddenly lost momentum and sunk back down. "Um…little?" he repeated, just to make sure he heard things correctly.

"Yeah—" she started but was interrupted by her hot dogs that were ready on the counter. Freddie clenched his jaw. After…after all those months of confusion and suffering and anticipation, he gets what he wanted, but really not at all. Besides his heart, he really sacrificed nothing, because nothing had changed. Sam was still his friend. She knew of his "little emotions" and decided that they were still going to be friends.

"Anyway," she returned, "Come on, let's go."

Freddie tilted his head. "What?"

"Let's go," she urged. "I just rented that kung fu sci-fi movie on DVD and I need people to back me up on it just in case Carly doesn't wanna go for it. So let's go get Gibby and we can all—"

But Freddie bolstered his resolve and pulled back. "I'm not going, Sam."

The wind started to pick up and Sam had to pull a strand of her gold curls away from her cheek. She tried her best to look up at him. "Huh?"

He shook his head and repeated. "I'm not going."

"What? Why?"

He swallowed hard but stepped forward, looking hard into her eyes with no fear. "Look Sam, you clearly don't want to be with me, do you?"

_What…_The wind blew against her face even harder than before, but his words struck so deep inside her that she didn't even notice. Confused, she shook her head and stepped back. "What? No, Freddie, you're my friend—"

"There you go again!" he exclaimed as he threw his arm in the air. "Not like this," he answered. "I don't think I want to be."

Her voice lowered. "But I apologized. I thought…you didn't hate me anymore."

"Sam," he sighed. "I could never hate you. But I can also never go back to the way things were. Isn't it pretty obvious right now I want to be more than just your friend?"

She bit her lip. "Just…just cut this out okay?"

"Cut what out?"

"This! This whole freaky crush thing! I know you were like this with Carly and now you're doing it again and"—

"Wait," he felt his blood rushing again. "You're comparing this to me and Carly? You seriously think this is the exact same thing I felt with Carly?"

"Yes," she defended, honestly being unsure in her mind but needing some kind of words to throw at him.

"This is just great…" he said more so to himself as he massaged his temples in frustration. He turned back to her. "You remember when you were drunk a month ago? Yeah, some kid spiked your drink and you got hammered the rest of the night? That proved it to me: proved that you were reckless, narrow-minded, and irresponsible. But for some reason all of that didn't matter to me because you needed my help. Seriously, you needed _my_ help. You didn't go to Carly that night, you came to me. You wore my t-shirt, you spit up on my back, and you slept in my bed." He laughed in a sadistic sort of way. "You know, that was one of the nights that made me realize how much I liked you. Crazy isn't it? It's absolutely insane! Cuz what I felt for Carly was normal: your typical boy in love with his perfect next door neighbor. But _this_," and he motioned toward himself and back to Sam, "this is the complete opposite of normal. Your vicious and evil-like self is anything but that. But...you make me laugh, you make me go to bed at night wondering the small things I can do to make you irritated, or the arguments from the past I can bring up just to make you fight with me again and I can see your cheek brush red and your eyes sparkle that blue color. And then I think that blue isn't an adequate enough way to describe it, so I stay up even longer listing all the possible colors of blue like topaz and cerulean. I know I sound insane just saying this right now…but I'm sick of watching you run away from it so now I stupidly laid it all out in the open for you."

Sam's chest wasn't just heavy anymore. It was as if her heart was running a marathon inside of it. All the while her brain was torturing her with embedding every word he just said into her memory. It's been a while since she thought of that night of the party. Technically it was the morning after since she still couldn't remember much about that night. She did, however, remember that My Fellow Americans t-shirt, and the palm of her hand lying open across Freddie's bed and his fingers tracing the insides…

_No! _She turned around slapped her forehead, walking in a small circle trying to get thoughts out of her head. She turned back to Freddie. "This wasn't how it was supposed to go… I was supposed to apologize and then slap you around a few times and then everything was supposed to return to normal. This whole thing…is jank. You don't know how bad I want you to stop this right now"—

He scoffed. "Don't you think I would if I could? You know, I have absolutely NO idea how this happened, but I'm sick of spending all of my time trying to figure it out, of hiding everything." He looked up and noticed her gaze somewhere else, obviously trying to block out his words. "So you know what," he continued, "I'm done. I don't have to figure anything out anymore."

He was about to make his way to leave until Sam called out again. "Are you serious? You're gonna say all of that then go ahead and leave without even thinking about how it affects me? You act as if you and your emotions are the only thing important to this whole situation."

"I apologized for that kiss," he said abruptly, "and I truly am sorry for it. But I'm not gonna apologize for the reason I did it, or the intention behind it." He rubbed the tension on the back of his neck, looked away for a moment, then turned back to lock eyes with her. "Look, Sam, I like you, and I feel pretty crazy about you right now, but there's nothing I can do about it anymore. So…stop asking me to change my mind, alright? Something tells me I'm not budging from this, so until you can truly see where I'm coming from, we can't be friends."

And that was it. He had nothing else to say, and for the first time in months he felt no regrets walking away from Sam or letting her leave. Because even though he knew the rejection was inevitable, he couldn't let that feeling in his heart go, the feeling that he wasn't alone in this.

* * *

**A/N: Way to go Freddie! Did I make him in character this time? Ehh, maybe. Did I make him own Sam with his feelings? Oh yeah =). So now you know where he stands, and it's Sam's turn to go through the conflicting emotions. I'm hoping next chapter will tie things up pretty nicely, and not leave anyone disappointed. Well...I see the sun rising, and I'm probably gonna collapse any second, so peace! Hope you liked it!**

**REVIEW  
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	4. Speak Low If You Love Him

**A/N: Oh, the final day of this story has finally come. It took me about six days to write it, so I hope it takes less time to read it. But I exceeded my personal record and dished out 9,000 words for this chapter. At first I was like "YEAH!" then I was like "wait, that's a crapload of words for one chapter." So instead, I split it in two. Don't worry though! I'm posting them both up today so no one has to wait anymore. I think I edited this about 257 times, but I loved how it turned out, and I hope you do, too!**

**DISCLAIMER: No. Just no. You know what I'm about to say, so just no. (yeah I've gotten a total of three hours of sleep so excuse my...oddity...and excuse me if that's not even a real word.)  
**

* * *

"Can you believe that dorkhole?" Sam vented to Carly at one of the picnic tables. It was the day after the complete confession and ultimatum she received from Freddie, and she had managed to avoid the urge of talking about what happened until now. "After going on his spiel about how we can't be friends anymore, he has the nerve to just walk away in nonchalance like he's the chizz and all. I'll punch him in his nonchalance and see how chizzy his feels after that."

"I don't know," Carly teased while playing with her salad fork. "You sharing physical contact with him just might make him go even crazier for you. You see how beating up on him has affected his heart now."

"Carly!" Sam fumed, leaning forward to make sure no one else heard.

"I'm sorry," she laughed in guilty pleasure, "but this is a major revelation and I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth."

"Since when did you turn into me," she scowled.

"You have an effect on people," Carly smiled. Of course, Sam was really shaken about this—more than she let on, which was surprising—but it was hard for her to see the horror of this situation when something so huge was brewing between her two friends. "But you're acting a bit more shook up about it than he was. He said he wasn't really that angry or anything"—

"_He said_?" she repeated. "He talked to you! When!"

She took a bite of her salad. "Just earlier before you got here."

"What did he say?"

"Um, basically everything you just said. You know…minus the obscenities."

Sam rolled her eyes and snatched her smoothie from the end of the table.

"He told me what he said to you," Carly continued, "and it surprised me. Honestly Sam, I think I'm jealous."

She looked up in stupor. "What?"

"Yeah. He's changed a little. And you can't help but be convinced about how serious he is about this. He's not giving up."

"Oh, please," she said with another roll of the eyes. "He didn't give up on _you_."

"That's different. You're…not normal."

Sam was seriously about to knock out the next person that said that. Did she really lack every characteristic of a "normal" girl? Carly caught her little look of disdain.

"I mean," She tried to correct herself, "you're pretty aggressive and…a lot to handle. But the way Freddie sees it, that aggression kinda turned into a good thing. He's thought a long time about this, and even though he thought of about a million reasons why feeling this way could go completely wrong, he still…wants it—you know, to be with you."

Sam lowered her stare and started biting down on her straw as Carly finished. "And you can't compare that to what he had with me."

"But you saw how he was," she moaned and let her head fall on the table. "He was in love with you; he even dated other girls after you. How can that turn into…having _things_ for me? No way is this stronger…"

Carly took another bite of her salad. "Is it possible that maybe the reason you're refusing this so much is because you actually like it? I mean, whether it being Freddie or not, a guy likes you that much and takes that much of an interest in you. For once can you just be a girl and admit that that's pretty awesome?"

"See," she interjected, ignoring the question, "you just said it, too. _Like_. Like like like like like. He only _likes_ me, so it's not fair that he's making me so crazy over something that's not even that serious."

It was Carly's turn to roll her eyes. "Listen to yourself, and tell me who's making this bigger than it really is: Freddie or you? Then ask yourself why. I promise you, Sam, that this whole situation would go a lot smoother if you'd finally figure that out."

* * *

Sam always wanted to fly to Jupiter. When she was little she always used to wonder what ham would taste like on another planet, and the trip seemed more alluring now because she highly doubt they had emotions in space.

It wasn't even February, it was an ordinary day, but she still saw images of love everywhere she went. In the halls, on TV, and even in her advertising class she dropped in on two girls having a conversation about their boyfriends. "Oh, he surprised me with chocolate," "Oh he bought me a promise ring." She wanted to blow her tongue out at them. _I just had my best friend confess his love to me by calling me abnormal then breaking off our friendship_, she wanted to say. _Beat that_.

Sam sprawled herself across her bed, allowing her conscious to seep into the covers. "Love," she whispered to her pillow. She could almost taste the sting of that word burning on her tongue. "Am I really at fault here for thinking that he could never love me?"

And then she realized what she was doing.

She always referred to what was going on as a crush, a small liking. But why was this love thing always creeping up on her and squeezing at her insides? Why was Freddie always creeping up on her? He was never once able to get under her skin; his dorky presence was too funny and amusing to take seriously. But now he was enveloping her mind, taunting her with the memories of that night…

If this was payback for years of physical and emotional torment, then okay, she got it. Could he leave her alone now?

She snatched her pillow from under her and pulled it over her head, trying to force sleep on her weary eyes, but her face caught onto something wrinkly so she looked down to see what could it be.

_Oh…_

Her father's letter.

She forgot that she had shoved it there when she had to actually use her textbook for other than a paperweight. Curious, she unfolded the paper and stared at the heading. Honestly, she only read it once, and afterward she just shrugged and slipped it between the covers of her book without care. Everyone was riled up about this one piece of paper, even Freddie. Everyone but her. Why did it feel so strange to have this in her hands? She started reading the sloppy script, wanting to remember its contents again.

…_I'm coming to town again, Samantha, and I want to meet with you and your mother—but mostly you. I want to know my baby girl again. I need to see the little me with my blue eyes and curly hair and nose. I wanna know you again, and we haven't gotten to do that since I got out the pen. So…please, read this over at least once and get back at me. I wrote my number down again. Or you can just get it from your mother. Whatever you like. But really, Samantha, I miss you so much, and I hope you miss me, too..._

Sam sighed. One of recent nagging texts she got from her mom was talking about how Melanie already wrote him a letter and he responded back. Whatever, Melanie was perfect at virtually everything in life, so of course she would respond. But Melanie was also a hundred miles away, attending a prestigious private university in Napa. Everything was perfect in her world, so that letter probably consisted of "how are you, I hope you're doing okay, I've been praying for you" and other generically similar responses. Her mother never had many kind words to say about her father when she was alone, but now that he was back she acted as if he was some long lost brother or something. Sam didn't want to do that. She didn't want to write about emotions she didn't have. She didn't know _what_ emotions she had, so what would a letter written for him even consist of?

She started to skim around the lines of the paper until a few words struck her attention. She read on, and getting a revealing feeling as she did:

_Remember when you wanted me to pack your lunch? You were so small back then, and it was your first day of second grade. You wanted a special lunch with one of those Wahoo Punch juice pouches, a pack of string cheese, and a turkey sandwich. Heh, you were so specific about that sandwich. It had to have three slices of turkey, two slices of tomato, and mayo spread on one side of the bread. And the bread had to be cut diagonally. You said you would scream if you had a vertically-cut sandwich. But I got arrested that morning, and I was pretty sure they didn't allow you to make sandwiches where I was going. Sarah said you threw a fit when you came home. You lit your brown paper bag on fire and stole Melanie's juice. Heh, you know you always had my fire. I hope you don't still hold that over me. I'm sorry I couldn't make you your sandwich, baby…_

Sam dropped the letter onto her lap. It seemed like forever ago but she remembered that perfectly. Her dad would always sit slouched on the couch watching TV, and he would always eat one of those huge professional-looking sandwiches as he watched wrestling. That was a man's sandwich, and Sam wanted something just like that for herself, just to be like her dad. _I can't believe he remembered… _

A tear was fighting to fall when Carly's footsteps started sounding down the hall. She panicked and shoved the letter inside a pillowcase, relieved that no tears had yet fallen.

"Knock, knock," Carly sounded as she revealed herself in Sam's doorway.

"You're back?" Sam asked. She had left a few hours ago to embark on the journey of blind dating. If Sam wasn't mistaken it was with some guy in her Econ class.

"Yup. Hence me standing in your doorway."

"So," Sam started as she tucked her legs together on the bed. "How'd it go?"

"Eh, it was alright. Nothing majorly interesting about the dude, so he so did not get lucky."

"Way to let em down easy, tiger," Sam nodded.

Carly laughed. "Thanks. So, what _wild _fun did you get into tonight?"

"Well, my butt had some mad fun with the couch. Then we asked the TV to join in and before we knew it, it turned into one hella crazy rendezvous," she quipped dryly.

"Ooooh," smiled Carly, "sounds awesome."

"Yeeeep." Sam had to compliment herself on her poker face. She made sure she revealed nothing. On Carly it worked, and finding nothing devastatingly wrong happening to her friend, she decided to head off.

"Well," yawned Carly, "I'm officially sleepy. Night, blonde."

"Night, brune," waved Sam until Carly was out of sight and sound. She threw a flip flop at light switch, allowing it to flip off and for her to escape into the darkness and sleep. That way, no one could actually witness the tear falling across her cheek.

* * *

_It's been two days_, Freddie sighed, laying across his bed. _You figure she would call to yell at me or something_.

Truth be told, he missed her. He missed her brutality, he missed the mischievous gleam in her eyes when she would look at him, and he missed the way her loose curls would flame around her when she attacked him. It was hard not being her friend.

But it was harder being her friend if it meant sacrificing everything he felt for her.

For once it was Freddie's turn to be selfish, so he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

* * *

Sam was hungry. She woke up abruptly because of the sharp pain of hunger that erupted inside of her stomach. It was almost one in the morning, and she cursed when she glanced at the clock. She thought she was making progress when she finally fell asleep after tossing uncomfortably in her bed, but to find out she had only been asleep for five minutes set her mood to a deeper shade of gray. But maybe indulging herself with meat would help the pain go away, and would help her finally crash.

Sluggishly she got out of bed and found her flip flops she threw earlier. She was wearing a navy tank top and red boxers—the most comfortable thing to sleep in—so she figured slipping on some type of hoodie would be best for walking out into the cold, Seattle wind. She walked past Carly's room without a problem and grabbed her keys to leave. She had no idea where she would go but maybe she could find that hot dog stand again.

…She couldn't.

After taking the long way down to the courtyard she found the cart nowhere, and concluded that it probably left for the night. She walked across campus to the cafeteria, but they were closed, too. Ugh, did the fates of the universe want her to starve? Did they get some kind of sick enjoyment out of watching her walk aimlessly around at night in search for food? She wanted to scream, but she figured no one could hear her behind her stomach growls. Quickly running out of options, she decided to settle for a jumbo fat cake and a Peppy Cola from the vending machines. At least they ran 24 hours, and were never able to disappoint her. She walked until she reached one of the dorm halls and found two adjacent vending machines near her reach. Smiling, she dug two dollars from the dual pocket of her hoodie and inserted one into the snack machine while inserting the other into the soda machine on the right. She pressed the desired buttons and impatiently waited for the snacks to fall. Finally they did, and she snatched the fat cake first, biting off the wrapper and biting down hard into its creamy center. She devoured it in about forty-five seconds, proud. That was her personal best. Wiping the pink powder from her lips, she hurriedly reached for the soda next. She slipped her hand through the metal slot, but surprisingly felt nothing. She used both hands next, but still touched only the cold metal inside. What? Oh no, God, please don't do this to her today. She pressed her nose against the glass to find the meaning behind this, and pain struck her as she saw the Peppy Cola caught between the glass and the side of the drop-down lever. No! She kicked the machine, but nothing happened. She banged against it, but the soda stood still. She even grasped it and raised it off the floor two inches and slammed it back down, but still, the damn thing wouldn't budge!

"Uuugh!" she screamed. "Give me back my Cola, you hunk of cheap corporation metal before I—!"

"Ahem…" someone coughed behind her, but Sam wasn't willing to let anyone else have the machine until she got what was hers. She was thirsty and upset and didn't want to deal with _people_ right now.

"Can't you see I'm busy, dude?" she said to the unknown person behind her and returned to her banging. But the person seemed unmoved by her fury and grabbed onto her wrist, gently pushing her away from the machine.

It took a minute for Sam to process who was actually mental enough to touch her, and she was about to go nuclear until the guy looked at her. It was a challenging raise of the eyebrow, followed by small shaking of the head and a roll of the eyes. He reached in the pocket of his sweats and grabbed a dollar, unfolded it, and slipped it inside of the machine. About five seconds later after choosing his drink, the lever came down causing Sam's soda to fall. The guy bent down and took her soda from inside.

"Here," he motioned for Sam to take it, but in those seconds she forgot how her hands worked. The boy had too strong of a force over her to make her respond normally.

"…Freddie…" she was finally able to say. He didn't say anything and only nudged the soda closer.

"Take it," he urged.

Hesitantly, she reached for the Cola, but her fingers brushed by his and charged at contact, causing her to flinch and snap her arm back. Freddie scratched at the back of his head, but bent down and retrieved it for her, anyway. This time he tugged her arm back and wrapped the drink around her fingers, forcing her to latch onto it. Sam allowed him to do it, but let her other hand cling desperately onto her side as he did, trying to fight the surge that rushed over her from his touch. He let go and without thinking she said,

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh, this is _my_ dorm hall," he inflected and pointed toward the sign that hung over the double doors. Stimson Hall. Damn it, it was his hall. Why on earth did she not notice that before!

"Oh…" and falling deeper into idiocy she tapped the top of her soda can. "You know, you didn't have to do that. We're not friends…remember?"

If that hit him hard, she couldn't notice it. Instead, he shrugged it off. "I don't have to be friends with anyone to hand them a soda. It's called _common courtesy_." He turned his foot in preparation to leave when he called over his shoulder one last time. "And, you know, it's also called _saying thank you_."

Sam watched his back and each step he took until he got closer to his door. _Please leave_, she thought. She was still hungry and tired and tetchy and being around him didn't make matters for her any better. He was stupid, and he was hurtful, and still after everything that happened between them he still was nice to her. What the hell…? You don't do that to people you don't want as friends.

She tilted her head and realized as she glanced at the soda machine that he left his drink still inside. Quickly she grabbed it and called after him before he opened his door.

"Wait!" she yelled, thankfully getting his attention. "Don't you want your soda?"

But the look he gave her set her back, for he smiled and stared straight into her with those light eyes. "No, Sam. I didn't even want a coke in the first place."

* * *

It was hard. It was so hard to fight things off when they kept on coming back ten times harder. No one was ever able to make Sam fall, or to make Sam bleed, but Freddie was always there, crushing her defenses and making her look weak.

He was getting at her heart.

She didn't like it.

The nub was her friend, and it took her a long time to even get comfortable saying _that_. There was so much violence between them and she loved it, because she knew that was how they operated, and despite her success at driving him crazy, he was patient with her and _got_ her.

She thought she finally got it. She thought she finally understood all the crap people would say about the beauty of friendship. It was a game she played with Freddie, and she was enjoying herself up until now, until Freddie broke the rules: until he started to like her.

He was in love with her best friend, and for years she had to put up with that. But it got easier once she and Freddie started to stick—easier and harder. His love for Carly was a long one; it changed and changed and changed. Even when he dated other girls, he had a phase with them until it was over, and things changed once again. But that "nothing" that he had with Sam was what made their foundation so strong. The way they played their games and danced along their lines strengthened them from enemies to friends. They didn't change. And Sam didn't want to.

At least...she didn't think so.

She was now leaning against Carly's door frame. She had walked back to their dorm after she had her run in, and was too confused to walk to her room and sleep. She figured if she crashed in Carly's room she could straighten her brain and wake up normal again, but she couldn't make herself to open the door. So she sat down and finished her soda, the soda Freddie left inside the vending machine.

Drinking the last drop of her Peppy Cola, she rose from her position on the floor and turned Carly's doorknob, quietly entering the dark room. She made her way over to her best friend who had her back turned and her blanket draped over her shoulders.

"Carly," Sam whispered. No answer. "Carly! Hey Carls, you asleep?"

The covers shifted and Carly groaned inside her pillow. "No, Sam…" she rasped out with eyes closed. "The lights are just off and it's in the middle of the night and my eyes are just closed by coincidence."

Sam bit her lip. "You…mind if…I sleep here tonight?"

Moaning again, Carly leaned up and crooned her neck toward her friend. "Why? Did you have that dream again where the monster that eats your soup turns into a ninja?"

"No, I just can't sleep. C'mon Carly, let me get in."

Carly wrinkled her brow but was way too tired to object, so she shrugged and pulled half of the blanket down, allowing Sam to enter. Still holding the empty can in her hands, she crawled inside and snuggled deeper into the covers, her back turned against Carly's. Absently, he started to play with the tab of the soda can.

"I saw Freddie today…"

"That's nice," Carly yawned, in and out of consciousness. Deep into her thoughts, Sam didn't notice the apathy from her friend and continued.

"And I want to be mad. But I can't. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Yes Sam…but that's why we love you…"

"Well, I feel pretty crazy right now, I can tell you that. …Do you think it's stupid of me to miss him? Like, a lot, miss him?"

"Stupid people have tiny brain cells…" she sighed halfway into delirium.

Sam ignored her weird responses. "Do you think…if I like Freddie, it'll change our friendship?"

"F-r-i…e-n-d...s-h-i-and p…" she sung to the tune of the Mickey Mouse Club.

"I mean, you just don't say to someone _I want to be more than just your friend_, and expect them to be okay with it. He makes me so irritated! But…I can't stop thinking about it."

"Freddie's middle name is Karl…with a K… How weird."

"You know he helped get my soda out the machine today…" she found herself smiling. "That dude doesn't know exactly how to hold a grudge, does he? I gave him the perfect opportunity to bite my head off and he passes it up."

"He has a picture of you sleeping in class on his phone…" Carly muffled into her pillow. "It's a kinda awkward lookin one with drool all down your cheek but he thought it was cute… You know pandas are really cute until they try to snap your legs off like bamboo sticks…"

Sam turned wide-eyes and shifted her body immediately so it was facing Carly. "What!"

"I know…like who finds drool attractive anyways? But everyone thinks pandas are adorable…"

If it wasn't for the darkness surrounding them, someone would see the bright red surface on Sam's cheeks. Sleeping in class? It was only obvious then that he had to have taken that picture during Psychology, where she frequently dosed off in. Thinking further, she came to remember a time when she woke up by the bell and a strangely perky Freddie was smirking to himself over her seat. Oh no…it _was_ then!

She plopped her back on the mattress and pulled the blanket up over head groaning underneath the covers. "Ugh, Fredward, you're so dead!"

* * *

But the next afternoon she found herself back inside her Psych class, and she couldn't even make herself to talk to Freddie, let alone commit homicide. He sat in the row ahead of her, and as usual he was immersed in the professor's lecture. Sam had her notes out, too, resembling everyone else in the classroom, but unlike them she couldn't concentrate nor find the strength to actually care.

Sam watched as Freddie leaned over and copied his notes down. It was weird. He was left-handed but was trying to write the notes down with his right. He told her a couple months ago that he wanted to teach himself to write with both hands—ambi…docious, or something like that—but she never believe he'd actually commit to it. She fought a smile; his handwriting looked even worse than usual. Catching sight of her pen lying dangerously close to the edge of her desk, she decided to discard of it and tapped it so it would fall to the floor. Unexpectedly it rolled under Freddie's foot, and got crushed by the toe of his sneaker. Sam bit her lip and leaned back in her seat. _Oh no… _But he caught onto the feeling under his foot and bent down, grabbed the pen after staring at it for a few seconds, and placed it on his desk. Sam leaned forward again as she watched. _No, _she wanted to call to him, _that's my pen, you dork._ Damn, she would have to get it back.

A little while later the bell sounded, initiating all the students to rise and head for the exit. Sam scurried to grab her bag and carefully followed Freddie from behind into the hall. Once the crowd got smaller, Sam swallowed hard and walked beside Freddie to even their pace.

"Yo," she finally caught his attention. "That was my pen that rolled to the floor."

The way Freddie turned to her gave her that deep, sinking feeling in her chest again. It was as if his eyes were shooting invisible force fields that refused contact with her. Did he really not want to talk to her that badly?

"What, this one?" he responded dejectedly and he reached in his pocket to grab her blue ballpoint.

Sam grabbed at it. "Yeah, that one," but Freddie held onto his grip so the pen stayed still.

"You stopped me in the hall and talked to me just for a _pen_?" he asked scathingly.

Sam fought her stutters. "Uh…y-yeah. That's a pretty valuable pen there. So thanks for grabbin it, but I kinda need it back," she stressed as she tried to tug the pen away, but still Freddie wouldn't budge.

"Why are you fighting this so hard, Sam?" he bolstered.

"Because…I want the pen," and she used that Puckett strength to easily snatch it away.

"I'm not talking about the pen."

"Then I'm lost here," she tried innocently. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "You fight so hard to keep _my_ feelings away—you even resort to biting me. Yet for someone who wants to keep a friendship like you say you do, you sure don't seem to be doing many things to hang onto it."

"What are you talking about?"

"We haven't talked once, Sam, except for the other night."

"And? You said you couldn't be my friend anymore. I'm giving you what you want, so why are you so upset?"

"Because this is not what I want," he sighed in exasperation.

She looked to the opposite sides of her to make sure no one was in close earshot. She turned back to him, lowering her voice to a bare whisper, fearful of the emotions that would wash over her when she said what she needed to say.

"What? Are you going to say that it's me that you want?" she finally let out. "Because you already had that. We…we already had each other as friends."

"It grew more to me," he lowered his tone as well. "It may not have to you but"—

"It did to me," she stopped him, taking him off guard. "It did a lot to me and—damn it, Freddie you know that."

He wrinkled his brow. "Then…then what are we fighting about here?"

"About a lot," she said, finally finding her voice and gaining more understanding of herself with each word. "I'm not another chick, Freddie. I'm not a Valerie or a Wendy and I'm not a Carly. I can't and won't be in the list of friends you feel like dating or falling in love with. Because you…" she paused, making sure she found her words perfectly. "Because you aren't someone I see myself ever _dating_. I don't see flowers, I don't see chocolates, and I don't see walks on sunsets. Look at us, Freddie, and see that that'll never be us."

"…Sam…" He slowly shook his head, wanting to object but Sam finished without giving him time to speak.

"You know…I could probably tell you _exactly_ what you want to hear right now, because the thoughts I have about you now are freakin…insane. But no, this isn't what I want so, just forget about it…alright?"

It was Sam's turn to walk away, and even though she did so with a pounding head and a throbbing heart, she did it anyway.

* * *

Sam sat cross-legged on her mattress and pulled open her binder to slide her hand across the empty notebook pages. Spread out across her bed were all the letters ever written to her by her father. She clicked her pen; she didn't know what she would say in this letter, but she would write anyway, and decided he deserved that much. If she couldn't release her feelings to Freddie, she could at least accomplish second-best and release her feelings to her father. She sighed...

_Hi Dad, _

…_I heard Melanie already wrote you a letter, so it sucks that I couldn't beat her, but oh well. I heard Pentonville Penitentiary has the best chili. I hope you ate a lot, cuz I would've been all over that…_

…_Yeah, yeah, I know you gave me like three of these things and I only gave you one, but I figure that's your payback for not being here for twelve years. Just kidding. Well, not really but still…_

…_I've been taken care of, don't worry. Carly's place has been like my second home and Spencer's kinda adopted me as his little sister now. …Okay, I was lying about that. But how awesome would that be? I should discuss this with him sometime…_

…_Ugh, I can't believe Mom sent you those pictures. I hated my prom dress, and my date choked on a bad crab puff and had to be rushed to the hospital. Freddie, you know our technical pro—_she crossed that out. _–my friend, he took me up on a dance. He said it was because he was having a crappy time with his date, but I think it was to make me feel better. Yeah, heh, he's nubby like that…_

…_Ugh, why you gotta go ask about all that? No, I don't have a boyfriend. Don't want one, don't need one, don't care—_she bit her lip and decided to cross out the last part. –_Actually, I do have a boy that's a friend. Kinda a best friend, actually. But it sucks cuz I'm starting to feel things for him that I shouldn't. I know what you're gonna say: I should talk to a friend about this, but the only other one I got is too perky and she'll only tell me the same thing over and over, and the other one…well I just told you what was goin on with the other one so I won't repeat myself…_

After writing the last part she blew all her tension into the air and collapsed backward onto her pillow. Dropping her unfinished letter on her face, she sighed and pulled at her hair.

"Ugh! Freddie Benson…you are such a diphead." Crinkling the papers underneath her feet, she turned to her side and clutched her pillow close to her chest.

"…Then what does that make me?" she asked herself.

Already knowing the answer.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**(always wanted to say that)**

**REVIEW  
**


	5. Speak Low If You Speak Love

**A/N: _Now being continued... ;)_**

**_

* * *

_**

"Hey Freddie," Carly started before digging into her yogurt. Classes were over and she decided to head to Freddie's dorm before going to hers to check up on how he was handling himself. "Do I talk all crazy when I'm sleepy?"

Freddie was sitting opposite of her on his couch, looking up insignificant tech information on his PearPod. "Yeah," he smirked. "You kinda do."

"Aw. Sam was laughing at me this morning telling me that I sounded like a deranged elderly lady. I knew I shouldn't have let her sleep in my bed last night."

Freddie looked up. "Why'd she do that?"

She licked at her spoon. "You know, I don't know. She sounded kinda upset, though. She told me she ran into you that night, so maybe that had something to do with it."

Something struck a chord in Freddie and he looked down, which made Carly anxious to continue on. "What _did_ happen between you two last night?"

He titled his head back in dejection and ruffled his hair. "Nothing, nothing happened between us and nothing will. Not as long as she can help it."

She decided before not to tell Freddie of the conversation she had with Sam a while back, but seeing her two friends suffer over stupid misunderstandings annoyed her to no end. For the better, she would butt in. That was the Carly way, after all. "You know what really has her upset, right? She's afraid of the feelings that she's getting for you so she's telling everyone and herself that it's cuz of me."

Freddie lifted his head. "What?"

"Well, partly. She thinks that what you all of a sudden have for her isn't anything different than what you had with me or the other girls you've dated, and just like the other girls…and well, me…she thinks you two'll break up or something and all those feelings you told her about'll be over." She smiled jokingly. "And can you blame her? After all, I was your _fiiirst_."

"Carly, could you seriously cut that out?"

"What? That's how she thinks. And usually the whole "breaking up" thing wouldn't be a problem but…Sam's not as cunning and stuff as she lets on. I think, Freddie, I think she's starting to have feelings for you. Like _real_ feelings, and she doesn't want them crushed because…because… Well I don't know! I'm not _Dr. Phil_. Man, is this stuff is making my brain hurt," and she rose from off the couch to throw her empty yogurt cup away.

Freddie leaned forward to rest his elbows against his knees and sulk inside the palm of his hand. _I know she does, _he wanted to say so badly, _I know what she's feeling and I should be happy about it but I'm not. I don't want it this way. I don't want her to feel this way. I want her to want it, too…_

"What do I do…" he finally let out. "What do I do to prove to her that I'm serious? Carly…" he lowered his voice as she began to sit back down. "I think I'm in love with her."

Carly lowered her jaw a bit. "Whoa."

"Yeah, very _whoa_."

"Well, why don't you…tell her just that? That's what girls always love to hear—even a girl like Sam. I think."

But he laughed right in her face. "HA! She slapped me when I told her I liked her. Imagine what she'd do if I told her I loved her—which is way more serious than like on so many levels."

"Well then, do something _Sam_ would notice. That _Sam_ would acknowledge. You haven't given up yet, Freddie, so don't give up now."

* * *

It was a day later, and even though only a couple of days have passed, it had felt like years to Sam. She was laying on the living room floor in her dorm, pressed against the coffee table and finishing the last parts of her letter.

Her patience was wearing thin. Not with Freddie, but with herself. She was getting pretty tired of waiting for herself, of waiting for her heart to slow down and to forget about everything. It was so easy to just assume that everything would go back to normal those weeks ago, but now nothing was still the same, and she was sick of it.

She missed Freddie.

She missed his dorky traits, and the way he would ramble on for hours about AV technology that no human could ever understand, and the way he would smile proudly when he succeeded at giving a worthy comeback.

Even that look he gave her that night after he gave her the soda, she missed that.

She was ready to admit to herself that she missed him, and wanted him back by her side. But for some reason she wasn't able to admit it to Freddie. If what he said was true, if all those things he told her that night in the courtyard were real, then how could she face that? After all the time and energy she spent in shoving them away, would accepting the dork's feelings be completely and totally weird?

The door opened and Carly strode back in from her session at the gym and with a brown paper bag in her hand.

"Hey hi!" she greeted.

"Hi hey," Sam greeted back. She lifted her head from her paper to give a glance towards her roomie. "Say, what's the paper bag for?"

"Oh, this is Freddie's. He asked me to take it since his backpack was full with his other textbooks."

She laughed to herself. "He's the definition of a nerdy overachiever, isn't he? Give yourself a break, Benson, why don't ya."

Carly placed the bag down on the kitchen counter. "Actually…" she smiled, "I think this is for you."

Sam dropped her pen. "What now?"

"Freddie wanted to give it to you, but he was busy with class so he asked me to take care of it." She stopped to sniff under her arm. "Ooh," she whiffed, "now that's unattractive. I'm gonna go cleanse myself, later!"

"Later…" Sam barely got out, from being distracted by the paper bag-wrapped gift that was sitting on the counter for her. Slowly she lifted up and made her way to the counter. _From Freddie… What would he even have to give me?_

Overly curious, she was about to go for the top of the bag when she noticed a small piece of notebook paper stapled to the front of it. Immediately she ripped it off and unfolded the note, reading the words with care:

_Sam,_

_Carly told me what you said, and to PROVE to you that I AM serious about how I feel, I did this. _

_P.S.: Don't take this the wrong way. I still don't wanna be just your friend._

Sam took no time tearing open the bag and digging into its contents. And just like her letter…her second grade lunch was there: the juice box, the string cheese, and the turkey sandwich. She even opened the sandwich and found that perfect—three slices of turkey, lettuce, tomato, and mayo spread on one side of the bread. Everything was perfect.

He did all of that just for her.

_Oh my god…_

"CARLY!" she yelled.

Frantic, Carly swung open the bathroom door just before getting into the shower. "What?"

"Qu-Quick! Where is Freddie right now!"

"Uh…in his Calculus class, but I think he's taking an"—

But the door slammed shut and Sam disappeared right before Carly could finish.

"…exam…"

Sam ran all the way through the dorm halls and into the math department. She ran past teachers and administrators, and she ran past friends she wouldn't even try to acknowledge. She ran as fast as her legs would allow until she reached his Calculus class. Without thinking, she turned the knob and barged in.

"Freddie, we need to talk!"

She gasped and clung to her knees until she was able to process what was around her. Everyone in the classroom was dead silent and test booklets laid across everyone's desks. Freddie, sitting in the center of the room, looked up from his booklet and almost dropped his jaw down to the hardwood floor. He couldn't comprehend that Sam Puckett _ran_ just to see him. The proctor of the test cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"Um, excuse me, young lady, but these students are in the middle of an exam. So could you please hold off on what you have to say to Mr. Benson _after_ he's finished with his test?"

Sam couldn't fight the feeling of embarrassment but refused to show it. "Uh…okay…no problemo…" but her feet stood still, and so did Freddie's eyes.

"Um," pressed the proctor. "_Outside_," and he pointed her towards the door. As instructed, Sam backed out, and after the door shut in her face she kicked at it. Pissed at herself for doing something so stupid, she plopped herself on the bench outside the classroom and hid her face in her palms.

She drowned in her misery until about forty minutes passed, and people started exiting their doors. She tried to drown out the walking footsteps.

"Um, cough cough," a familiar voice uttered.

Sam looked up. "F-Freddie!" and she stood up immediately.

"That's my name…" he smiled. Sam rolled her eyes. Why was he always able to smile in situations like this? It almost made her want to smile. Almost.

"So…" she finally had to bring up her gift, after all it was the only rational explanation she had for bursting into his classroom like that. "How did you know?"

He shifted his jaw pensively. "Remember when I said I didn't read all of your dad's letter? Yeah uh…I kinda lied."

She looked behind her to make sure no one was too close, and afterward grabbed his arm dragging him into a back hallway leading to a janitor's closet. "You did?" she spoke low.

"Don't kill me," he pleaded. "But the part about your dad and your lunch kinda stuck to me,"

Sam looked down in embarrassment.

"…and I know he didn't make that one, but I figured food would be the only way I could get through to you."

Sam avoided his gaze and backed herself to the nearest wall, letting her weight lean against the brick. "Well you have a weird way of getting to a girl."

He leaned next to her. "Yeah, I figured a girl wouldn't really go for it, but a Sam would."

"It was perfect," she slipped out. "Thank you."

"Wow," he stared incredulously. "That wasn't the response I expected. The one I kinda hoped for…but not expected."

"I didn't expect _any_ of this, as a matter of fact."

He rolled his eyes. "Pfft, you act as I did."

She turned to look at him. "Then I'm curious. What do you see this as? Don't worry…I'm ready to listen this time."

He fought the urge to smile as she gazed at him. He sucked in as much air as he could into his lungs, then released. "I guess I see it as, something deeper. We have our friendship which is like, based on this inner layer of hate—"

"Ahh," she grinned wryly, "gotta love that layer."

"Of course you would. But, there's something else under there, I think it's something that's been there for a long time, and I really have NO idea how it started but, I wanted to start to explore that…with you."

She looked up into the poor light, her voice lowering, threatening to let her insecurities spill. "Why do you even care? Like seriously…why do you like me?"

"I don't know. It's not something that's easy to answer exactly. You know you're pretty demonic."

"And you're pretty _mor_onic."

"Clever, see. But evil."

"And that's my charm."

He took her hand, and silently exalted when she didn't let go. "See. We're still Sam and Freddie. I know what you _think_ I want, but I don't want that to change."

"Well, it kinda seems like you do."

"Nope. I just wanna be able to do this," and he slowly traced his thumb around her knuckles, "without having you light me on fire or break my kneecaps."

A sudden shock pierced throughout her hand, but she was able to endure it this time. "Is it bad if I kinda like this?" she asked as she motioned toward her hand.

He smirked. "Bad for me, no. But for you…I don't know. Only you can really figure that out."

She crossed her arms over her chest, not realizing she shook her hand away from his in the process. "Well, don't kill me if I can't figure it out. I screamed at you and cursed at you and pushed you away, but really, I don't know how I feel anymore."

He never left his eyes from her. "Don't tell me what you don't know. Just…tell me what you _do_ know."

She caught his eyes for a long moment before looking back down. She squared her shoulders. "I don't want you to stop talking to me. As a matter of fact, I forbid you. You can't just say all those huge things to me and then drop everything like that. And I want to still be your friend. It'll be too weird to know that our friendship is over. I don't think I could deal with that."

But her heart was still pounding, and still beating with more to say.

"Alright," Freddie stood up. He didn't want to but for once he needed to stop being selfish throughout this. Come to think of it, he didn't think it fit him. Sam's feelings were too important to him now to just ignore. "You win. I'ma just leave, and give you however long you need to think about whatever you need to."

Sam watched as he started to walk away. That was the answer she wanted to hear then, but not what she needed to hear now. If he said that two weeks ago she would have sighed and leaped for joy, but now she couldn't let Freddie leave her again. That hard feeling came back in her chest, and she didn't want to ignore it anymore.

"Wait," she rushed forward and tugged at his sleeve. "I don't think I can deal with you leaving, either."

"Wait, why?"

"Because…" she swallowed. "Cuz I think you're the only one who knows what's going on here…with me." She lowered her hand down back to his, making Freddie stare at her with confused and fiery eyes. "I do wanna be friends, but I think I…I think I…"

But that was all Freddie needed to hear, and all Freddie had the patience for. Before she could finish her words he wrapped a tight arm around her waist and kissed her. Once again he forced his lips to meet hers, and for the first time Sam didn't try to fight back. Without thinking—or with finally thinking—she rapped her arms around is neck and leaned forward, pressing her lips hard to his. The heavy breath Freddie pushed out tickled her cheek, and almost instinctively she clutched a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into her. Freddie pushed her back to their very wall and cuffed a palm tightly to her cheek, wanting to capture her and to never forget again the sweet taste of her mouth. In the world of Sam and Freddie it lasted forever, but in reality it only ran the span of twenty-seven minutes, and afterward their lips separated, but their bodies still clung securely to each other.

"You didn't pull away…" Freddie gasped, trying to salvage his oxygen. "Or bite me…"

She breathed heavily, too, and entangled her fingers into his russet hair. "I know…" and she started to smile. And she didn't give a damn about it, either.

Freddie smiled excitedly and wasted no time. Without warning he kissed her again, and for the second time Sam didn't care.

* * *

Dusk soon broke the sky into a million shades of deep reds and oranges and purples. Sam was in her room, and Freddie was in his, but both minds mutually lingered towards the other. Their kiss those hours ago had to be cut short, for both could hear Carly's footsteps down the hall, and she worriedly calling out to her friends. They had no explanation of why they were together, and no way to answer Carly's piercing questions, but when Carly finally got her alone the only response she could get out of Sam was "you were right."

So when Sam left the dorm with her lunch Carly didn't ask where she was going. She didn't need to.

And Freddie wasn't surprised when he found Sam leaning against his doorway holding her gift in her hands, either.

"Come on, Fredly," she had smiled. "You didn't expect me to just take a picture of this and hang it on my dresser, did you? Mama needs to eat, so let's go!"

"Ugh, you always need to eat," he groaned as she pulled him out into the twilight.

"Yeah, but right now it's important. We're celebrating."

Freddie tilted his head toward her and raised his brow. "Oh really? And what are we celebrating?"

"Me not wanting to break your neck anymore," she grinned proudly.

But Freddie couldn't help but to adore that smile and all of its mischief. "I see."

"Yup," and she reached inside the bag to pull out the plastic-wrapped sandwich. Tucking the brown paper bag under her arm, she carefully tore the clear wrapping away and took the sandwich between all fingers.

"A diagonal cut," she nodded in approval. "Good work."

"Thanks."

She took one half and handed it over to Freddie. "Here."

He looked back between her and the bread in her hands. "You sure?"

"Yeah yeah, I'm positive," and she motioned him to eat. She started to speak again once he had taken a bite. "It's the least I can do…I figure."

He smiled at the sandwich. "No Sam, _this_ is the least you can do," and he loosened his hand from underneath him, motioning for her to take it. She stared at it for a long while, but after watching the way his fingers flexed in anticipation, she chuckled to herself and slipped her fingers through. They walked on like that: eating sandwiches, and holding hands.

Eventually they made their way to the courtyard, and almost all of their lunch was gone. With only the string cheese left, Sam pulled it down the middle and handed it to Freddie. He gladly accepted and began pulling apart parts to eat.

"Wait a minute," Sam interrupted. "I think I gave you a bigger piece."

"Oh. Well thanks for that."

"Thank you my butt! Gimme it back. I'll fix it."

"Oh, you mean fix it so I only get a tiny bit."

"Um, yeah."

"Um, _no_."

"Give it back!" and she began grabbing at his half. Freddie tried to push her back.

"Hey, get your hands off my cheese!"

"I'll put my hands all over your cheese, Freddork, now gimme!"

He held it above his head, secretly loving his height advantage and how it came in handy. But this didn't sway Sam and she stepped on his foot, causing him to curl over and grant access to his string cheese.

"And momma wins once again," she gloated.

Freddie limped the pain off. "Yeah yeah, whatever."

On any other circumstance Sam would eat both pieces effortlessly in front of him, but the look on his face held onto her and she couldn't force herself to ignore it, so she ripped off a piece and shoved it into his mouth. She let her hand go as soon as her finger touched in between his lips. He gave her a surprised look but she just shrugged it off. She stuck one of the bigger pieces of cheese into her mouth and glanced at him quickly while the piece hung onto her teeth. He was still looking at her, and it was sending her on the edge of embarrassment and slight attraction.

"Stooop," she said with a muffled voice for the stick of cheese was still in her mouth. "What are you looking at?"

He smiled and turned his head. "Nothing, just some blonde headed demon standing next to me."

She only responded with a nudge to his side and continued eating her cheese silently.

She smiled inside. It was as she wanted now. Their friendship was back. But there was also something else now, something that would always be lasting in the air between them. The growing emotions she had inside were still all too new and confusing, but the feelings he had for her were all too adamant, and something Sam couldn't ignore. But it wasn't as bad as she would have pictured. They were walking along the sidewalk at sunset eating cheese, the most cliché of all scenes set for any two lovers, but with Freddie it made it all new and all exciting. Scary, yes, but exciting none the less.

She had to laugh at a thought.

"What?" Freddie questioned her odd behavior.

"So…you _like_ me." Saying it out loud felt somewhat of a rush to her.

He gave her a confused look, having absolutely no clue where she was going with this. But after a second he couldn't fight a smile, either. What was he supposed to say? "No?" "I guess?" Of course not; he knew the answer as much as she did. He knew _exactly_ how he felt about her.

"I _guess_ you could say that," he quipped.

She didn't miss the curve of his lips when he said that, and she fought a blush. Yep, just as she expected, how he felt would never change anymore.

She looked up and noticed the campus water fountain coming closer. Finishing her cheese, she quickly dashed over leaving Freddie behind. She sat on the cool marble and stretched her limbs, listening to the quiet pitter patter of the water droplets behind her. Freddie made his way over too, of course, and stood directly across from her, touching the tips of her feet with his. He shifted his weight back and forth on his heels, staring at the sky as if he was trying to capture the passing day, but instead his mind was eclipsed with thoughts of Sam.

He knew it. He knew he wasn't wrong when he felt that he wasn't in this alone. He knew he didn't go through months of agony over nothing. He remembered when he told himself about a month ago that there would never be anything between him and Sam. He wasn't hers, she wasn't his, and it would never be anything different.

But if he had only listened to her, really listen to her, he would have found out that he was wrong. They were each other's—in a weird and twisted sort of way, but they were. They were each other's punching bags, each other's diary, and each other's friend. Sam was right; there was no way that he could ever stop being her friend, because their friendship made so much of who they were. But the strange part that was different than any other girl he'd dated was that he wanted all of it. The friendship, the love, the abuse, and the passion. They couldn't just "date" and carry on like a normal couple, because nothing about their relationship was "normal." Sam saw that. Sam…was pretty amazing, he decided.

"So…" Freddie started, inching closer to her until his arms rested against the marble, hovering over her sides. "You like me, don't you?"

Sam lifted her head and watched him as he moved closer. She smirked. "Hm… I _guess_ you could say that." Smiling, he tilted his head toward hers, and leaned closer until his body was completely vulnerable. The evil resurrected inside of Sam and she leaned backward once his eyes were closed and pushed him straight forward into the fountain.

"Wha—wha!" Freddie spattered once he got over the shock of what just happened. He ran a wet palm over his face. "What was that for!"

She leaned against the seat. "Don't ever leave your guard down with _this_ chick."

But in the midst of her laughs she didn't catch his wicked grin and he latched onto her arm, pulling her into the fountain with him. She stared with shocked eyes at him as he just knelt there, laughing his ass off. Her golden locks were sodden and clinging all over, reminding him of her in her drunken state that night. Except this time, she was as sober as she could be, and she sprung forward as a lioness would to her prey. Freddie turned over and tried to crawl his way out of the fountain, but Sam jumped onto his back and locked him in a choke hold.

"Okay!" Freddie choked. "Okay, Sam, okay! Stop!"

Sam frowned and loosened her grip. "What? Did I hurt you?"

"Ha, no," Freddie grinned and stood up, catching Sam off guard and almost having her fall behind him. He moved his hands back and latched onto her waist and legs, and resorted to spinning her backwards.

"What the hell?" Sam yelled. "When did you get so strong?"

"Oh, you know that kinda happens after the voice gets lower and I start growing facial hair."

"Oh please, I've seen naked mole rats with more hair than you."

"You're clearly not in the position to attack me, Sam," Freddie said matter-of-factly and shook his arms, pretending to drop her.

"Hey!" He laughed more. She was getting tired of having the blood rush to her head so she decided to end it by tugging at the hem of his shirt and biting down on his skin.

"AH!" Freddie jerked up and let his arms fall, leaving Sam to fall gently back into the water. She laughed at his pain and swung back around him, grabbing onto his arm.

"You BIT me on my SIDE. Where my kidney is!"

"Yeah," she let out a hearty sigh, "I did do that, didn't I?"

"I swear, you're so evil."

"Yup!"

Her laughter died as she got a clear view of his face. His damp hair clung against his forehead and his wide eyes shined a light hazel all over. She held onto his arm and looked at him, unmoved by his perplexed stare back.

In that moment she was able to admit it: he was really cute. And she was tired of fighting herself so hard to find answers to the questions she didn't know.

So for once, she decided to tell the truth, the truth she just realized while looking into his eyes.

"Yeah," she smiled carelessly. "I do like you."

Freddie caught his breath and the anger immediately flushed out of him. "S-Sam…"

And with officially losing her sanity, she pulled him in by the neck and pressed her lips not-so-carefully with his.

* * *

**A/N: -applauds- Yes, it is over. The one shot that turned into a three shot that concluded as a five shot. -Channels Dan- But it makes you think...Freddie has more than once admitted to himself that he is in love with Sam. But what about Sam? She's hinted to herself that it could be love, but how would she react when he confirms it straight to her face? Do you really think I can just leave it at "I like you" and move on? Hmm... And her letter, her father, it's disappointing how I just let that all up in the air, huh? **

**Oh well, I hope you enjoyed this story, because I loved writing it, and I loved continuing on in this journey with you guys, cuz if you remember, I was thiiiiis close to leaving it as a one-shot. I was nervous about how I would develop it, and if I would automatically kill what I tried to create. But, I think I did pretty good. I hope you guys feel the same. iNeed You More, my first story that's still trucking on, is definitely more of a "slow burn", but I hope you guys can continue on that journey with me as well. It's your opinions that make what I do great, after all.**

**So now that my spiel is over, please sit back, soak all those 9,000 words in, and review if you can. Thanks SO much for all the wonderful support I've gotten! Really, it makes my heart all warm with warmness when I read them!  
**


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